Supernatural S1E02 COVER UP
by Kate Sienna Zoe
Summary: Second episode of my series. Zoë has a dreams about a young girl being abused by her father. When she and the Winchester brothers start to dig, Zoe herself becomes the target.
1. Chapter 1

**COVER UP**

_Paragould, Arkansas_  
_Two months ago_

"Shut up and eat your dinner".  
A guy in his forties glares at a young girl next to him. He seems to be in an awful bad mood. He is sitting at a diner table in a rather classy home. The local weather forecast is broadcasted on the television in the other room and breaks the cold silence.  
"It's gonna be 83° tomorrow, Dad", a young boyish voice says from the living area.  
"I can hear that, boy. I'm not deaf!", he shouts back.  
"Daddy, I'm not hungry anymore", she states careful and sad.  
"I don't give a damn, that plate is clean in five minutes, or else…"  
"Robert…", a woman sitting across the table warns him.  
"No, I'm so sick of this lingering. I have better things to do! I'm gonna miss my show", he snipes and turns back to his daughter.  
"Eat your food or I'll stuff it in", he threatens.  
"I'm full!", she says, raising her voice.  
In a blink of an eye he backhands her and she lets out a cry. When she looks back up to her father, tears are building up in her green eyes. Then she quickly flees and runs to the stairs.  
"Laura! Get back here!", her father shouts.  
But she doesn't listen and the door to her room slams.  
"Dad, your show's on", their son informs from the other room.  
"Damn it! That's it, I had it up to here with her!", he gets up furious and follows her, taking two stiles in one step as he climbs the stairs.  
He opens the door and stares into the room, then slowly walks in.  
"Daddy, please don't. Please… No, no!", Laura cries as the sounds of punches come through the door.  
"Come here you little… How you like this, huh? And this!", he shouts while hitting her.  
Her mother looks at the corridor, but remains seated. As if she pretends she doesn't hear the constant beating and screaming, she pricks a potato on her fork and eats it. Then, one long loud scream that overrules all others…

Gasping for air Zoë sits up in her bed. While heavily breathing she stares at the wall in front of her, her eyes widened. Chill, take a breath, it's just another nightmare. She rubs her face and sighs. Man, that was bad. She feels like she just got out of a car crash or something, soar, panicking and confuses. Sweat is running down her back and yet she feels stone cold. She breathes out slowly, waiting on the side of the bed until she's calm. A gaze at the clock on the cabinet informs her of the time, it's 7:15 in the morning. Zoë huffs, and she hoped to sleep in. When she gets on her feet, the headache comes to her. Moaning she walks over to the bathroom; unpleasantly surprised by it once again. Every time she wakes up, she's unprepared for the strike in the head. Strange, because after every single nightmare like these, she has these blinding pains. Without looking at the faucet she turns on the shower while steam covers the mirror with a layer of moist. She takes of her Snoopy shirt and knickers and quickly jumps in to the shower. As soon as the water hits her skin, a feeling of relief and relaxation comes to her. Now that she's back to her old self again, the tiredness sets in. How long did she sleep, an hour or two maybe? After an exhausting seven hour drive (including a quick shower stop to get rid of the smell she was still carrying with her after her previous case in Rochester, Minnesota) she finally arrived in Paragould, Arkansas, a little over 550 miles south. She checked into the first motel she could find, got out of her clothes and crashed in her bed. At that time of night, she couldn't think of the dream she had over the last couple of nights. As the warm water refreshes her, Zoë starts to take out the details of the images she just saw during her sleep. It was the same kind of dreamas last night and the night before, the exact same scenery, the same people and the same events. She concentrates and brings back the precise memories she has been playing over and over in her head.  
"… _that's good news for the locals down there, let us see if Brian can give us some positive news about the weather".  
_"_Well Julia, that I can. Looks like it's going to be another sunny day in Green County tomorrow. Clear blue skies, a mild refreshing breeze from the southwest and a temperature of, brace yourself, 94° Fahrenheit average, which is rather warm for this time of the year. Even when we look further up the road it seems like these high temperatures just keep on going. Great weather for July and summer isn't leaving Arkansas any time soon, Julia".  
_  
She could hear it so clear in her dream, the 6 O' clock weather forecast of the local TV station, somewhere July this some work on the computer she found Greene County, in the far north east of Arkansas. Over 38.000 people live in this countywith Paragould as its micropolitan area with a population of almost 25.000. Besides the fact that it seemed obvious to take a look in the largest city of the county first, for some reason when that name appeared on her computer screen she just knew this was where she needed to go. She turns off the shower and steps on the warm carpet next to the sink as she grabs a clean towel from the drying frame. For a second she takes a look at the scar next to her bellybutton where she got hit by a bullet almost two days ago; it looks good. With a second towel folded around her head and the other tightened around her chest, she walks out into the main room. It looks better than the previous motel, the colors are fresh and bright. The furniture is simple, an abstracted sunset is painted on the wall and gives the room something exotic. Now that the bad headaches finally decrease, she can face the sun outside. Even though the temperature isn't as uncomfortably high as in July, the weather forecast could as well been for this beautiful September morning. It's just now that Zoë sees the graveyard across the street. She chuckles; she sure picked her spot. As she looks outside, her thoughts wonder off to Sam. She's not exactly sure why she can't stop thinking about him, but she has a hunch. Her dreams, his dreams, their dreams. Zoë was quite surprised when Sam mentioned the fact that he has been having nightmares, it got even weirder when she learned that he dreams about bad things happening to people and it became scary when she realized his dreams actually come true. Familiar? Just a little, but not entirely though. Sam apparently sees things that are about to happen, while she herself sees what already has. Zoë can't help it wonder how it's possible that two complete strangers start having these, what should she call it… visions around the same time. A sigh escapes from her lips; she can barely believe seeing the past or the future _is_ possible. What a weird world they live in. She turns around and gazes at her messy bed for a moment. It seems to invite her back in and she would gladly crawl under those warm covers and sleep. Then again, what's the use if she's going to wake up an hour later with the exact same images in her head, feeling just as crappy as she did a moment ago? She decides to get dressed and make the best of this beautiful day.

Thirty minutes later she's sitting at a table in a diner next to the _Sunset Motel_. Not just some diner, but an actual _McDonald's_. Zoë is amazed every time by her great ability to pick out perfectly located motels, as the last one was right next to a _Wendy's_; she's a natural. _Clocks_ by the British band _Coldplay_ plays in the background as a warm morning sun comforts her. Zoë's stomach rumbles as if there's a war going on inside. It's not strange that she's hungry; the taco from _Tacobell_ she had last afternoon was the last meal she had.  
"Here you go", the lady who just took her order at the counter serves her not one, but two burgers.  
Zoë thanks her and quickly unwraps the first burger. Then she takes a big, slow bite from her juicy, fresh made Big Mac and she can think of only one thing:_Viva la McDonald's_. She closes her eyes and enjoys every bit of it, she so needed this. Already the world seems brighter than it did a minute ago. Because, be honest, there's nothing better than a Big Mac at 8 O'clock in the morning. Remarkable how food can swing your mood, hers just improved amazingly. She glances outside from her red bench, over the fields of _Linwood Cemetery_. Normally Zoë things of these places as cold, troubling and dark scenes, but on this sunny morning it actually seems like a peaceful resting place. The rising sun shines an angelic light on the tombstones who stand in line for as far as her eyes can see. She huffs, if she needs to release a spirit on this case, she sure hopes she doesn't have to burnany bones. If she does, it's gonna be a hell of a night, checking every one of those stones for a name. She's looking forward to it already. An elderly man walks into the diner as Zoë licks her fingers before she starts on her second burger, and orders a coffee. He looks like a tramp with his unshaved face, crackled hat and dirty coat. He has a newspaper folded under his arm which he opens as he's seated opposite of Zoë. At first she doesn't pay attention to the guy, who takes his time drinking his coffee and catching up with the news, until he flips the front page. As she takes her last bite, her eyes capture a picture, then she coughs and almost chokes on her Big Mac. '_Appreciated doctor found dead in own home', _the headline says. Stunned she stares at the picture. There's no way she forgets a face like that, it's the bastard that beat the crap out of that little girl in her dream. She leans towards the man to read the smaller lines, but he pulls away his paper and glares at her from behind it. She decides to ask for the paper nicely.  
"Excuse me, Mr. Could I borrow your…"  
"Get your own!", he snarls.  
Zoë frowns and backs out. And she thought she was moody in the morning. Annoyed she gets up, greets the lady behind the counter and takes the free paper from the rack near the exit. As she walks out of the diner, she opens the paper and observes its front page, then she reads the article.

**A****ppreciated doctor found dead in own home**_**  
**__Second tragedy Shire family_

_PARAGOULD, AR September 23, 2005— Dr. Robert Shire (44), a surgeon at the local  
Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, was found dead Wednesday night in his home in  
Paragould. According to local police, there was no forced entry, but suspicious  
circumstances were reported._

_According to a press release, released by the Paragould Police Department Thursday  
evening, on Wednesday at approximately 6:01 PM, the PPD responded to the Shire  
home in reference to reports of a dead body. Evidence from the autopsy that was  
performed Thursday morning show that his cause of death was asphyxiation through  
__strangulation. During time of death, the __Shire family was present in the house, they  
are not suspected __by the PPD._

_Additional evidence gathered by police throughout the nighthave "led investigators to  
believe that incidents of domestic violence did occur in the home," according to the  
press release. Yet they found no evidence of break and entry, nor did they find DNA  
or fingerprints at the crime scene. A suspect has not been officially named in the case.  
__The death of Dr. Robert Shire marks the second loss in the Shire family. This July  
Dr. Shire and his wife lost their 10 year old daughter._

_As of press time the family has not begun making funeral arrangements._

There you have it, the first kill. Zoë still wants to do a bit of research on this, but she knows a seriously pissed off spirit when she sees one. She folds up the paper and walks back to her Motel, going through the developments. Normally it bugs her when she's too late to save the first victim, but in this case a part of her is glad she did. It may be wrong of her to think that way, but the way he treated his daughter, he kind of got what he deserved in her opinion. Still, she has to get rid of angry Laura, because ghosts this violent, don't usually stop with one kill. Who knows who she might blame for her own death…


	2. Chapter 2

"I've got one of a rose right here".  
It's 11 o'clock in the evening and _Marcie's Lucky Spot_ apparently is the place to be in Paragould. The bar 80's style bar is crowded and cosy. _Glory Days_ by _Bruce Springsteen_ is playing on the stereo system and everyone seems to be laughing and having fun. A pretty blonde, dressed in a low cut white top, a pair of skinny jeans and high heels is sitting at the bar and shows Dean her subtle tattoo on her wrist. Dean smirks, nothing more sexy then a bit of delicate ink on a gorgeous girl.  
"A rose, I presume that stands for beauty", he comments with a smirk.  
The look that he gives her would blow every girls mind away. Then there's that smile, a smile of a little boy up to no good. She chuckles and looks down, pretending to be shy.  
"You don't happen to have your boyfriend's name written somewhere, I hope?", Dean checks.  
Again she laughs and shakes her head.  
"No, I don't have a boyfriend", she admits.  
"Thank God for that", Dean glances up for a moment and smiles back at her. "But tell me, how can a girl like Denise be single".  
"They're not all charmers like you, I guess", she flirts.  
He grins, she has no idea. He gently puts his hand around her wrist and checks out the tattoo.  
"You have more of these pieces of art?", he asks curious.  
"I do actually, one other", her blue eyes look deep into his, she comes closer to whisper something in his ear. "It's an little arrow, down here…"  
Dean can't help to glare down that area for just a second, than he lifts his eyebrows. Okay, _that_ is hot. When he looks back up at her, he can't help to stare at her lips for a moment. She's so close.  
"Honey, I don't need directions", he whispers back with a grin on his face.  
He moves even closer to Denise and kisses her. Without doubt she kisses him back as she closes her eyes and lets her hand glide down his neck. Then he looks at her again, his eyes sparkle. For a moment she seems overwhelmed by the kiss and stares at him, pleasantly surprised.

"Do you want to go else where?", he suggests.  
"Sounds good", she answers, biting her lip sensually. "Just give me a sec to tell my friends that I'm leaving".  
She gets off her stool and walks away, glancing at him over her shoulder. Her heels click on the wooden floor as she walks over to her girlfriends. He checks her out, grins and looks over at his brother, who's sitting in the back reading and making notes. Dean shakes his head disapproving. Unbelievable, he can't believe they are related.  
"Hey dork, ever heard of having fun?", Dean crashes on the chair opposite of Sam.  
Sam looks up from his notebook, considers to answer but decides to ignore him. He looks back down at an old looking book and continues writing. Dean sighs, this is a hopeless case.  
"Sam, come on. We're not even on a case here", Dean notifies.  
"I'm looking for info on Dad", Sam corrects.  
"In a book?", Dean huffs disbelieving.  
"I'm trying to figure out how he's hunting", Sam says, looking up from his book again.  
"Just let it rest for a night, okay? Look at the girls in this bar, Sam", Dean glares at Denise, who waves at him as their eyes meet.  
"Not interested", Sam makes clear.  
"Seriously, just admit that you're gay then", Dean waves back at her and turns at his brother again.  
"Hey, I wasn't the one who had sex with that shapeshifter", Sam brings up as he goes back to work.  
"I didn't have sex with her!", Dean spits, then doubting his words. "…it".  
"Him", Sam corrects.  
Dean gags for a moment just thinking of it and glares at his brother annoyed.  
"Look man, do whatever the hell you want, but the motel room is mine for the night", he states.

Sam looks up again, apparently he doesn't agree at all.  
"Again?", he asks.  
"Dude, that damn shifter scarred me for life! I need to take away this pain and my medicine is standing right over there, know what I'm sayin'?", Dean nods at the girl he just made out with.  
Sam chuckles.  
"Fine, but I want the car", he states.  
Dean sighs, but agrees.  
"Whatever. What are you doing tonight?", he asks curious, hoping that his brother might get out and shake the feeling he still carries around.  
"I'll go look if I can find Zoë", he informs.  
"Do that, maybe you can have some fun with her", Dean does his eyebrow thing and gets up.  
"Did you call her?", Sam wants to know.  
"No, she said to call her in a few days, not today", Dean remembers him.  
"So? Just call her".  
"Yeah, 'couse that's a real turn on for Denise. 'Hey Zo, wanna meet up again? I wanna pick up my stuff'", his brother responds sarcastically.  
"Point taken", Sam admits. "Just give me your phone then".  
"Na-ah", Dean walks towards the exit, where Denise still waits for him.  
"Dean, come on!", Sam begs.  
But the door closes behind them and Dean walks passed the window with his arm around Denise. As he passes by, he gives his brother a thumbs up. Sam shakes his head and can't help but to smile. That's Dean, he will never change. For a moment Sam goes back in time, wondering if his brother has always been like this. Yeah, pretty much, for as long as he can remember. Always after the girls, always making the best of the worst situation, always nagging his little brother. Sam closes both books and takes them under his arm as he gets up. It's time to find Zoë. With a laptop and his phone she'd be a tough one to track, not to mention without. Time to ask some questions and visit some motels. A blind search maybe, but this town isn't that big and the night is still young, who knows who he might run into.

The nights are warm this September. The moon is almost full and stands high in the dark blue sky. This time it's not the sun which shines a light on the thousands of tombstones, neither does it give the cemetery a graceful feel. Trees create long shadows, so black that you would almost be afraid to walk through them. Gravestones and statues of angels and other Bible figures don't seem sacred and honoring for the people buried in these grounds, but look down threatening the ones who dare to disturb them at this hour. If you'd walk around the stretched outlands of _Linwood Cemetery_, you would be rather sure the place is deserted. Never the less, someone is present. Not a grieving widow or someone else who was left behind, but a person who's literally digging up some dirt. Rhythmically equal amounts of soil fly through the air and land on a pile next to a hole in the ground. In the grave, Zoë is working like a miner. Even though it's night, all she's wearing is a thin Lakers basketball shirt. Sweat shimmers on her body as her muscles move under her skin. For a moment she pauses; she reckons she's almost there. Out of breath she listens to her surroundings and scans the area as a periscope of a submarine would do. Not a sound, nothing to see, but she senses something, alright. She can't really put a finger and she glares at the loaded shotgun next to her in the hole, but picks up the shovel instead. She continues digging and throws four loads of ground out of the grave. Then, suddenly Zoë goes for her shotgun, aims on pure gut and fires. The slug demolishes half a gravestone and barely misses a figure hiding behind it.  
"Jesus Christ!", a voice cries out.  
"Friends call me Zoë", she responds smartly and reloads her rifle.  
She stays low to the ground and focuses on the tombstone from out the grave, prepared for a possible counter attack, but nothing comes.  
"Show yourself", she commands.  
A tall guy raises from behind the tombstone, his hands up.  
"It's me", he says.  
Then he steps into the moonlight and she recognizes him.  
"Sam…", she huffs, actually not that surprised to see him. "Seriously man, there will come a day that I kill one of you Winchesters if you keep sneaking up on me like this".  
"How on earth did you notice me?", Sam questions, disappointed in his own ambushing skills.  
"Are you kiddin' me? I can smell you from a mile away after your dive in that septic tank", she nags.  
Sam stares at her for a moment and smells himself.  
"I showered!", he cries out.  
Zoë smirks; she can't believe he actually bought that. Now also Sam realizes she got him right where she wants him and rolls his eyes.

"What if it was the night guard?", he tests her.  
"If the night guard enters, I'll notice it the minute he sets foot on the cemetery", Zoë responds rapid as she puts away her shotgun and takes the shovel again.  
Before she continues digging, she looks up at Sam.  
"What the hell are you doing here anyway?", she asks.  
"Looking for you", Sam answers as he approaches the hole.  
"Well, you found me. Now get lost", she continues digging and seems bored by his presence.  
"I'm not going anywhere without our stuff, Zo", Sam states.  
She stops with what she was doing, leans on the handle of the shovel and gives him a look.  
"Sure. Just a sec, I'll just pull your laptop case out of my back pocket and I think I stuffed the two duffel bags in my bra", she responds sarcastically.  
"Haha…", he glares at her.  
Zoë raises her brows for a second and continues while Sam halts on the edge of the hole and looks down. The hole isn't that interesting, it's probably 5 feet deep now, but that's not what he's looking at. Her hair hangs in front of her eyes in strings, sweaty from the hard work. Just as that moment in Rochester yesterday morning, she captures him in this strange way that he just can't keep his eyes off her. Then she meant to, just to make a point, but apparently this time she feels uncomfortable.  
"What do you think this is? ?", she looks back up over her shoulder.  
"Beg pardon?", Sam looks at her stunned.  
"Don't get all innocent with me, boy. I happened to stumble on some browser internet history on your laptop, which is full of viruses because of that crap by the way", she notifies.  
Sam stares at her, then the light bulb switches on.  
"Dean", he sighs annoyed, then he turns to Zoë. "You've been on my computer?"  
She has the direct feeling that this would be a good time to lie, considering Sam might do the same to her as she would do to Dean if he ever gets on her Harley Davidson again. Instead she doesn't, because come on; it is quite amusing.

"I did actually, it was quite a mess in there", she comments.  
Sam looks away and grinds his teeth, which drawls a reaction from Zoë.  
"Hey, don't be mad at me. I didn't screw up your computer with a dozen porn sites", she nags.  
"I'm gonna kill him", Sam states.  
"Ooh, don't wanna miss that", Zoë turns up the speed a bit, having an extra motivation to hurry up now.  
The youngest of the Winchester brothers looks back down at her again.  
"So this is your case?", Sam asks interested.  
"Looks like it", she answers without pausing.  
"What's the story?"  
Zoë glances at him for a moment, but doesn't stop with what she's doing.  
"Young girl, got beat up by her father. One strike killed her", she gives him a brief summary.  
"Let me guess, what goes around comes around for the dad?", Sam guesses.  
"Yep. Died yesterday", she says.  
_Wauw, she's quick_, Sam realizes. It's not often that he has run a case that fast.  
"How did you figure it all out in that period of time?", Sam asks curious.  
"I did my research", Zoë responds shortly.  
Apparently she doesn't wanna talk about how she works a case, her answers are short and slightly annoyed. A silence follows and he glances over at the gravestone.

_**Laura Emily Shire**__  
Beloved daughter and sister  
01.22.1995 – 07.17.2005_

_Rest in Peace_

"Apparently not", Sam comments on the last sentence.  
"What?", Zoë looks up.  
"Nothin'. Need help?", he offers.  
"Do I look like I need help?", she bounces back.  
He shakes his head and ignores it. He should have known she wouldn't except a helping hand from him. So he watches, not for long though, because three swings later, Zoë hits the coffin. The sudden different noise draws Sam's attention. He glances over the side as Zoë wipes the sand away. An hardwood beech coffin is laid open. Zoë busts the hinges with her shovel and opens the coffin, after which she quickly backs out. It's one thing to burn just bones, but this little girl is actually still in a the rotting process.  
"Argh… man, that's bad", Zoë covers her mouth and nose with her hand and turns at Sam, who hands over her backpack.  
As she tries not to inhale, she takes out a bag of salt and small jerrycan filled with gasoline and drains the remains with both. Then she climbs out of the grave and takes a match out of her pocket. With a smooth strike she lights it and drops it down the hole. Almost immediately the fire spreads out and shines an orange light on their faces as the heat reaches them. She lets the body burn for a while and then shovels the dirt back in the hole. Sam wants to help, but she only brought one shovel, so there's not much he can do.  
"How did you find me by the way?", Zoë asks curious when they walk back to the main gates of Linwood Cemetery.  
"I drove by and saw your Harley on the parking lot of the motel. You weren't in your room and your bike was still there, so when I saw the cemetery right across the street, I just figured", he tells.  
"I could have been at the _Mc Donalds_", she ponders.  
"Could have, yeah", Sam admits smiling.  
"Lucky guess, huh?", she grins as she climbs over the fence.  
"Or coincidence", he adds.  
"Let me tell you one thing, Sam. There's no such thing as coincidence", she looks up as he jumps down the steel gate.  
They halt in front of the _Sunset_ motel as Zoë puts on her jacket. Grave digging can be quite intense, but now that she's not doing anything, she feels cold. Before she walks inside she throws her backpack over her shoulder and turns around at Sam.

"What are you doing tonight?", she likes to know.  
"Not much actually, Dean has a girl over at the motel", he sighs.  
"Ah, I was wondering where the bastard was. Another one, ey? Not a shapeshifter this time?", she smirks at him, remembering the joke she pulled off on him.  
"Not this time", Sam laughs too.  
"You didn't tell him that you didn't really see if it was male or female, right?", Zoë checks.  
"Nope", Sam's eyes sparkle for a moment, in the same way as Dean's eyes do so often.  
"He probably has nightmares about it", Zoë enjoys the idea, but then turns to Sam. "You had any last night?"  
Sam looks her in the eye and the sparkle disappears. He forgot about the fact that he opened up to Zoë about the strange dreams he's been having. He's happy to shake his head.  
"No, I haven't. I slept quite well, actually. First time in a month", he says satisfied.  
"Well, I didn't", she yawns and quickly covers her mouth with her hand. "I'm gonna catch some sleep".  
Zoë intends to walk inside and leave Sam at the door, but he stops her.  
"Aren't you forgetting something?"  
A bit confused Zoë halts and looks back.  
"You're not getting a kiss, so you can forget about that", she comments.  
Sam glares at her. "Our stuff".  
"Oh right, I knew that", she lies and walks into the _Sunset Motel_, followed by Sam.  
As she opens the door to her room Zoë yawns again.  
"That bad, huh?", Sam grins.  
"Don't start", she cuts off and walks directly to the bathroom. "Let me fresh up, one sec".

One sec turns out to be five minutes, because after that amount of time she walks out of the bathroom, fresh and showered. Sam glares at her shirt and can't help but to smile.  
"Seriously, Snoopy?", he smirks.  
"I said 'don't start'", Zoë threatens with a laugh. "Your can find your stuff in the closet".  
Sam looks around and opens the door. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the duffel bags, but he can't spot his laptop.  
"It's on the table, still hooked up to mine", she answers his unasked question.  
"Why is it hooked up?", he walks over and notices the USB cable.  
"Don't get all emotional about it, but I'm copying the Wiki to yours", she tells him.  
Surprised he looks up. She actually did that, something nice without him asking? His thoughts about her keep improving, this is really thoughtful of her.  
"Thanks", he says.  
She looks aside and can hear he really means it. For a moment she touches the mouse and her screen lights up; it's still copying.  
"Don't mention it, but I tell you what", she straightens her back and walks over to her bed. "It's still sending over the files, that might take another hour or so. If you don't have a place to stay anyway, why don't you hang out here?"  
Another surprise, she just invited him in. Not that she would want anything from him, though.  
"Sure, if you don't mind", Sam gladly excepts.  
"As long as you shut your pinhole, I don't mind. I really need some sleep", she clears up as she crawls into bed and pulls the covers up till her nose.  
"Remote is on the TV if you want to watch", she mumbles, her eyes already closed.  
"Thanks, I'm good", he says as he sits down behind the table and looks at the screens.  
"Hey Zo, is it alright if I…", Sam starts, but he doesn't finish his sentence.

Zoë is already far away, curled up like a dog, wrapped in her covers. She seems so peaceful and vulnerable, so unlike the Zoë Sullivan he knows. He smiles, she's quite a girl. Then he looks down as the expression on his face changes. It's strange, every time he thinks of Zoë, his thoughts wonder off to Jess again. As if some voice in the back of his mind is still telling him that he can't look at her, that it's not done when you're in a relationship. But he isn't. Jess and he aren't, she's gone forever. He swallows apprehensively and glances at his screen again. He sees images passing by of creatures and demons as they are being copied to his computer. He can't wait to get his hands on that thing that killed Jess and Mom. He never felt the urge to kill someone, he never felt this much anger and hatred for anything. Of course he slashed ghosts with iron, burned their bones and stopped all the other supernatural which terrorizes this land, but never out of pure hate. The frustrating part is, he has no idea where to start. Dad is nowhere to be found, probably after the damn thing by himself and he and Dean have no lead what so ever. They really need to find Dad and he'll make sure that he and Dean leave this town tomorrow morning, Denise or not. Sam has the feeling that when that time comes, when they finally find their Dad, they will also find the demon. That thought right there is what drives him, disturbing yet thrilling, but that's what everyone's after. The death of that demon, the final revenge.


	3. Chapter 3

A shrill whistle reverberates over the training fields. Kids stop in their tracks and run back to their teacher, some cheering.  
"Alright! Good job, boys and girls! Red team wins!", the teacher which they surround claps in her hands as the children gather.  
They all sit down in a circle on the grass as they always do after practice and look up to their teacher, waiting for her to give the cue to head off to the dressing rooms. The sun shines brightly and stands high in the sky, burning down on them. The American flag flutters from the frontage of a school building.  
"Looking forward to summer break, kids?", the teacher asks, resting her hands on her knees as she leans down to level with her class.  
Her question is answered with loud enthusiastic cheering, she laughs.  
"Aren't you even going to miss me?", she pouts.  
"We'll miss you, Mrs. Dawlson", one of the little boys speaks up.  
More kids agree with him and their teacher smiles.  
"I'm sure you will do fine at _Oak Grove_, Roy. You're all going to middle school! Fifth graders already, my boys and girls are getting all grown up", she observes her class, obviously proud of the kids.  
"I tell you what. Next Friday we are going to play lots of fun games, alright?", she suggests.  
The faces of the children light up and they happily smile at each other. Then she lets them off the hook.  
"Off you go, be safe", she greets.  
All get up and run for the dressing rooms, challenging each other to get there first. Some scream and laugh as they play tag along the way. All but one. The joy disappears from Mrs. Dawlson's face as she watches on of the girls who slowly strolls back to school. Despite the warm weather, she's wearing a long sleeve shirt and blue sweatpants. Every one can see this girl is unhappy. Mrs. Dawlson sighs, then she calls the girl back.  
"Laura?"  
The little girl looks over her shoulder with a sad look upon her face. She carries her long brown hair in two brads, her bangs cover her eyes.  
"Could you come here for a second?", her teacher asks gently.

Laura walks back with her head hanging down, like a dog who did something bad and is now called in by its boss to pay the punishment. Mrs. Dawlson kneels down to level with the little Laura, not wanting to talk down on her. But Laura doesn't look her in the eye and keeps staring down at her feet.  
"How are you doing, Laura?", her teacher questions with calm voice.  
"I'm fine, Mrs. Dawlson", she answers politely.  
The coach hesitates for a moment if she should force an answer out of her, but decides not to.  
"Well al right, but if there is anything you want to talk about, let me know, okay?"  
The young girl looks up and Mrs. Dawlson seems startled by the sadness in her eyes, but it's not just because of that expression. She can see a dark bruise through her bangs, right above her eyebrow. With her fingers she carefully sweeps away her hair and reveals the injury underneath. Laura backs out scared and turns her head away. Quickly, but without hurting her, Mrs. Dawlson grabs Laura's wrist and pulls up her sleeve. What she sees then, makes her stomach turn. Laura's entire arm is bruised and battered.  
"How did you get these?", Laura's teacher asks gently, but a bit firmer than before.  
"I fell", she makes up fast.  
"Tell the truth, Laura. Who did this to you?It's alright", Mrs. Dawlson tries comforting.  
"No one, please don't tell anyone", the little ten year old begs as she pulls herself loose.  
"It's safe with me", her teacher assures.  
"No, I can't", Laura stammers.  
By this time she's crying. Big tears stream down her cute little face. It seems like she is going to cave in, but suddenly she turns around and runs for it. Mrs. Dawlson lets her go and straightens her back. With a sigh she places her hands in her waist and watches her student leave the field. Disapproving she shakes her head and closes her eyes.  
"Poor girl…", she whispers to herself.

It's still early morning when Sam pulls over at 2310 West Kingshighway and enters the parking lot of the _Ramada Inn_. He left Zoë still asleep, apparently she really needed her rest. Last night he wondered what was going on in that head of hers, what she's been through, as he went through the Wiki she had developed as a hunter over the years. He could tell from the file properties that she didn't just accidently stumbled on a ghost and got curious. Something happened, something bad. The first file was added about five years ago, containing information on the Diligo Vesco demon, which possessed her round that time. As Sam gets out of his brother's car, he can't help but wonder why Zoë ended up in the hunting fields. On his way over to Paragould he discussed it with Dean, who apparently shares that thought. Why didn't she move on like all the other innocents who have a one time supernatural encounter? Why did she leave her family? Dean doesn't get why he even gives a damn, he said it's non of their business and if Zoë doesn't wanna share, then why dig further? Maybe so, he needs to get her out of his head. While rummaging around in his pocket, he enters the hotel lobby and makes a left turn to the main corridor. The red carpet underneath his feet is stained and the wallpaper doesn't seem much cleaner, but the beds are good and the sheets are clean, that's all what really matters to them. He did notice the room didn't have air conditioning and with these temperatures that can be problematic. Then again, he has a feeling that not even a freezer could have cooled down the two lovebirds inside of room 106. Just as he takes out his room key, he sees that he won't need them; Dean is already at the door with Denise.  
"Call me", she tells him as she saves her number in his phone.  
"I sure will", Dean grins.  
They kiss once more. Both can barely keep their eyes of each other as Denise walks away in last nights clothes with a happy smile on her face. Sam passes her in the hallway and looks over his shoulder. He can see where Dean's coming from; she's beautiful.  
"Forget it, tiger. She's mine", Dean has spotted the look upon his brother's face.  
Sam laughs and shakes his head.  
"Had a good night?", he asks carefully, hoping he will skip the details.  
"Did I have a good night? We didn't stop till 5 AM", Dean yawns and walks back into the room.  
"I don't wanna know", Sam cuts off before he spills the goods.  
He follows Dean into the room, finding one bed untouched and the other completely messed up. An empty bottle of Sauvignon lays on the ground while a dirty glass still stands on the cabinet next to a half full bottle of Jack Daniels. The window is wide open and the heavy curtains who keep out the sun during the hot summer days now wave in the wind slightly. Seems like they had one hell of a party.

"Grab your stuff", Sam says.  
Dean looks aside surprised, since when is Sam the one who gives the orders? He doesn't respond to that though, but to the fact that he doesn't have stuff.  
"What stuff? Zoë has it all", he brings to mind.  
"Not anymore, it's in the car", Sam informs.  
"Ah, so you found her", Dean raises his eyebrows and grins at his brother.  
Sam huffs and rolls his eyes, but his older brother doesn't pay attention to it, as he's rummaging through the empty bags which once contained potato crisps. Apparently he's hungry.  
"Nothing happened, Dean", Sam states with a tone.  
"Oh come on, not even a little kiss?", he teases, but Sam denies.  
"A look then? You know, one of those cheesy Titanic moments".  
But again Dean's brother shakes his head, although he can't resist to comment on that.  
"You saw Titanic?", Sam chuckles.  
"Well, no… So I've heard", he corrects uncomfortably and turns the conversation back around. "But let me get this straight, absolutely nothing happened?"  
"That's what I said", Sam confirms.  
Dean stops searching for food. Crap, there's nothing left. Then he turns to Sam, who seems annoyed by the interrogation. The eldest sighs with a laugh.  
"You're such a loser, Sammy", he chuckles.  
"That's it, I've had it", Sam straightens his back and stares at Dean furiously, who is a little surprised to see the expression on his brother's face.  
Sam is pissed, but Dean can hide his victorious grin. For weeks he has tried to get Sam over the edge, to trigger him to let it all out. Finally he has him where he wants him.  
"Did it ever occur to you that I might feel bad about myself if I just head off with some girl for a one night stand like you always do?", Sam shouts.  
Ouch. Dean frowns, it is kind of true, but he doesn't let Sam get to him.  
"I have no idea, Sam. You never talk to me about it, so how the hell am I suppose to know how you feel?", he bounces back.  
"And you think that's strange? She was my girlfriend, Dean! I was going to ask her to marry me for God's sake!", he pauses and he gets madder. "I had everything planned out, law school, Jess, everything!"

He starts to pace through the room, restless and upset.  
"It doesn't always work out as we want to, Sam. You should know that", his brother brings to mind.  
"I _LOVE_ her, Dean! I still do and I can't get her out of my mind. She died because of me!", Sam halts in front of Dean and raises his voice even more.  
"Don't do that to yourself, man. It's not your fault she's dead", Dean tries, but it's not something Sam can forget easily.  
"It is, Dean. I didn't warn her about the danger out there. I lied to her…"  
Sam intends to ramble on, but Dean intervenes so that he can respond on that first notification.  
"What makes you think that telling her the truth would have made a difference? It was an ugly ass demon that killed her, Sam! Not just some ghost. Listen to me", he grabs both Sam's shoulders and forces him to look down his eyes. "That same thing killed mom and probably a whole lot of other people. This demon is powerful and if Dad has trouble stopping it, you wouldn't have stood a change".  
"I'm not talking about stopping him at that moment, Dean", Sam pulls himself loose and turns away.  
An unpleasant silence fills the room as Dean waits for a follow up, but Sam doesn't continue.  
"What then, Sam? Talk to me", he asks, almost begging him.  
Again that silence. The youngest of the two Winchesters doesn't move and stares at the wall with his hands placed on his waistband. He swallows apprehensively, maybe he should just be honest with him. He sighs and turns around, Dean can see his eyes glister.  
"I could have prevented it", Sam claims.  
Dean observes him, thinking through his next question first before he throws it in. He has a feeling there's more to this than just guilt.  
"How?", Dean asks with a tone.  
Sam bites his lip, but doesn't look at him. Then, after a month of silence, Sam finally opens up to his brother.  
"I dreamed of Jessica's death, days before it happened".

Complete silence. Dean stares at his brother as if he's seeing a ghost, not sure how to react to this. He opens his mouth in order to respond, but can't find the words he's looking for.  
"You mean, as in… a vision or something?", he asks disbelieving, laughing nervously.  
Sam sighs, he knew he would respond like this. Everything he has a hunch, Dean comments on it like he's some kind of freaky medium.  
"Never mind…", Sam gives in and walks to the back of the room.  
"Wait. You're telling me that you actually saw Jess die like she did, in a dream?", Dean recalls.  
His younger brother halts and eventually nods his head.  
"I didn't thought anything of it at first. I figured it was just a bad dream. Until…", he's unable to finish his sentence.  
Dean says nothing, he just stares at Sam. Several issues storm through his head. What the hell is going on with him? Why didn't Sam tell him this before? He is stunned and a bit overwhelmed by the idea, but his own brother might actually be something a hunter would keep a close eye on.  
"You're looking at me as if you're about to sprinkle holy water on me", Sam notifies.  
For a moment Dean glares at the flask on the table; he might just do that.  
"Dude, you're seriously considering?", Sam cries out.  
"You wanna tell me that this is normal, Sam?", Dean bounces back.  
Sam rolls his eyes and turns around, he already regrets that he brought it up.  
"Why didn't you tell me before?", the eldest of the two likes to know.  
"I don't know…", Sam stares at the ground.  
"You don't know? You're psychic, right?", Dean huffs.  
The youngest of the Winchester boys grinds his teeth, but doesn't say a word. The tension between the two of them feels awkward yet familiar; it feels the same as the arguments they use to have before Sam took off for college. Back then he left after a huge fight with their father. Sam was so sick of their lives as traveling hunters. Never a stable life, always in fear if they would make it through the day. He and Dean were raised as soldiers, while all Sam wanted was to be normal. So he went to _Stanford University _to get his law degree, but as it turns out, not even he can run from the supernatural.

"Anything else I should know, Sam?", Dean pressures.  
"Like what?", Sam returns annoyed.  
"I don't know, maybe you can stop bullets or do that cool laser eye thingy", the eldest brings to mind sarcastically.  
"Very funny", Sam glares at him.  
"It would explain a lot of things. The 'S' stands for Sam and there's your love for tight leggings", Dean nags.  
"Stop it", Sam sighs, but Dean doesn't even think about giving up just yet.  
"Can you fly? 'Cause that would be awesome", he grins.  
"Dean!", Sam warns mad.  
"What? Either I joke about it or become outrageous, I think this is your best option. Trust me, you don't wanna see me furious right now, Sam!", Dean returns.  
"One way or the other, it doesn't help!", the youngest cries our pissed off.  
"Well excuse me for trying to see the fun side of your Allison Dubois turning", Dean gestures at him, not amused at all actually.  
"You see? This is exactly why I didn't tell you, Dean! I knew you would give me this kind of response!", Sam snipes.  
"What did you expect? You keep something like this from me for over a month", Dean forces him to realize.  
"I don't have to tell you everything I go through, I don't owe you that", Sam makes clear with lowered voice.  
"And there you're wrong", Dean turns to him, pointing his finger at him as he approaches his brother. "I am your brother. So yes, you owe me that".  
Dean stares straight into Sam's eyes, his head tilted slightly backwards to look his younger yet taller brother in the face. Sam can see his words hurt him.  
"We use to tell each other everything, Sammy. What happened to that?", Dean questions.  
"It left, along with me", Sam breaks eye contact and walks past him.  
"I know you're pretty damn good at it, but don't you walk away from me!", the oldest of the two warns.  
"Or what?", Sam tests, not impressed by Dean's stern words.

"This is not something you can walk away from, Sam. When will that finally come to you? When you're in, you're in. There's no way back when you know about what lays in the shadow, especially not when you have visions about it", Dean brings to mind.  
"So what, you're planning to hunt till you're in a wheelchair?", Sam huffs.  
"No, I plan to finish the job Dad left for us to do and kill as many sons of bitches as I possibly can. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. I intend to prevent that people go through the same drama we've been through and if I don't succeed…", he pauses as his eyes penetrate Sam's. "I'll die tryin'".  
This time he finally shuts Sam up. No stubborn behavior, no smart answer, just silence. Sam isn't sure what to say to that. He has to admit, he respects Dean for his point of view.  
"Why should we be the one to sacrifice everything?", Sam questions, less hostile than before.  
"I don't know, Sam", Dean sighs. "It's just the way it is. So we either feel sorry for ourselves, or we deal with it".  
Deep inside Sam knows he's right. He can never have the life he wishes to live. There will always be more to hunt, this is a never ending story. And even if he does turn his back on the business for good, will he be able to forget about Jessica's death? Can he move on without scanning every street, expecting something out of the ordinary around every corner? Dean's right, he can't. Right now, actually getting his law degree seems almost impossible, but then again, maybe he was being naïve when he went to Stanford in the first place.  
"Shall we go?", Sam suggests.  
Dean looks up as the peace seems to have returned. He decides he had enough arguments for one morning and lets it go. He got Sam to talk to him, one step at a time.  
"Can't we stay one more night?", Dean tries carefully.  
Sam frowns, but then understands his reason for hesitation.  
"Denise", he chuckles.  
"She's something, huh?", Dean's typical grin appears on his face again.  
Sam nods, she is.  
"Hey listen, man. I'm not pushing you to hook up with some chick just to nag you or anything. You need to move on at some point and I just figured a girl might help with that", Dean lets him know. "You can talk to me about it if you want to, I'll try to be serious".

Sam glares at his brother for a little while with a _'yeah right' _on his face. After a moment of who-gives-up-glaring-first, Dean caves.  
"Alright, I wanted to piss you off so that you would get it out of your system", he admits.  
Sam smiles, he knew it. He's not mad at him for playing it this way though, Dean means well.  
"I guess I owe you thanks then?', Sam says.  
"Not really, but I'm serious. Talk to me when something's up", Dean underlines.  
Sam answers with a nod of the head, then he goes for the door, apparently intending to leave.  
"Ah, come on. One night", Dean begs.  
"There's something ripping out hearts down in Texas, described by locals as _'possibly a bear'_", Sam offers.  
Dean rubs his unshaved chin and thinks it over.  
"Cool werewolf hunt or hot sex? Tough one", he ponders.  
Sam can't help but to smile and waits for the final call.  
"Alright", Dean sighs. "Do you need to change in a phone booth before we go?"  
Sam glares at him once more, but Dean keeps a straight face.  
"No?", he checks teasing.  
Sam's looks says enough and Dean lets out a smirk. Sam huffs with a laugh. It's official; Dean is a hopeless case. He feels his pockets for his phone and his facial expression changes. Unpleasantly surprised he looks around.

"Lost something?", Dean questions.  
"I think I left my Blackberry at Zo's", Sam realizes.  
"Naturally", Dean fails to believe he left it there accidental.  
"Would you quit it already?", Sam cries out.  
"Okay, I'll stop", Dean promises grinning. "We need to score some food anyway, I'm hungry as hell".  
He puts on his leather coat and pressures his hand on his stomach, which makes complaining sounds.  
"There's a _McDonald's_ next to Zoë's motel", Sam mentions as he holds the door for his brother.  
"Big Mac it is", Dean's eyes light up, imagining the food on a plait in front of him already. "Or a Quarterpounder and I hear that McBacon is really good too…", he rambles.  
Sam laughs as Dean picks up a small duffel containing only the few things they carry around at the moment. He follows Sam outside who locks the door behind them. A quick bite before they leave another town and move on to the next one. They never stay long, but the last two stops have been extremely short. Dean likes Denise, yet he has never been the guy who sticks around long enough to be thinking of a relationship. To be honest, a wolf hunt already sounds more fun than doing the girl he already did last night. After that shapeshifter drama, he's up for something exiting as their next case. Dean is sure of it; Texas, here they come.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam knocks on the door of room 17. He's standing in the hallway of the _Sunset Motel_, which is still quiet at this hour. It takes a while before someone answers the door, but when he's about to knock for the second time, the door opens.  
"Sam…", Zoë says with raspy voice and lets him in.  
As he enters the room, he notices the shotgun in her right hand, which she held behind the door incase she had bad company, but that's not all. Zoë, still dressed in her Snoopy shirt and shorts looks like she's having the worst hang over ever. Her respiration is fast and she looks tired and upset.  
"Are you alright?", Sam checks.  
"Yeah, just a bad night", she mumbles.  
"You were fine when I left", he's surprised by her state.  
She doesn't respond and strolls to the bathroom. Sam hears the water falling down in the sink, she's probably washing her face.  
"I left my phone here somewhere", Sam informs before Zoë asks about his visit.  
No answering, not even a smart comment, nothing. Curious and even a bit worried, Sam peeks around the corner. Zoë is leaning on the sink with one hand, pressuring her other hand against her head. She squints, she seems in pain.  
"You're not alright", Sam sees and walks in to support her.  
"It's nothing, just leave me alone", she states annoyed.  
She walks past Sam into the room and turns on the TV as she's rubbing her face. Sam observers her. Something about her conditions seems familiar. Then he sees it.  
"You had a nightmare, didn't you?"

Startled Zoë looks aside. Crap, he's on to her! Quickly she recovers.  
"No I didn't", she huffs and looks back at the television, pretending to be distant.  
Sam keeps glaring at her as the local TV station brings them the latest news. She tries to concentrate on the screen, but feels Sam's burning eyes. Then she turns to him.  
"What?", Zoë cries out.  
"You're lying", Sam knows.  
"No, I'm not, Sam", she sighs and turns up the volume.  
"I'm not gonna drop it. You were dying to know about my visions the moment you heard I have them", he steps between her and the TV, blocking her view.  
"I'm watching that", she notifies annoyed.  
"And I'm talking to you", Sam returns.  
She gives him a look that could kill and steps around him to have a clear view on the television again.  
"Killing headaches, dizziness right after you wake up. The feeling as you've been hit by a truck, the blurry visions. You have them", he pressures, talking to her back.  
"Would you shut up for one second?", Zoë cries out irritated.  
It's just now that the news on television catches Sam's attention. She's not yelling at him for nothing, or just because she doesn't wanna talk about it, there's actually something interesting on the news.  
"_A man has been found dead this morning in his own home. The Paragould Police Department has identified the man as Bill Van Dyke. The PPD cannot rule out murder considering the circumstances involving his death are suspicious. Local authorities claim that the family was home during time of death_", the reporter on air says.  
"Crap", Zoë curses as she realizes what is going on.

"What?", Sam wants to know.  
"He died the same way Robert Shire did", she explains, still watching the screen as another reporter at the scene gives more information about the incident.  
"The girl's father?", Sam checks, remembering the surname of 'Shire' engraved on the tombstone of the bones Zoë burned last night.  
Zoë nods confirming as the reporter in the studio takes over again.  
"_Bill Van Dyke was well known in the community and was principal of Woodrow Wilson Elementary in Paragould…_".  
Zoë doesn't hear the rest of the report but stares at the school building which is shown. She recognizes that building.  
"It's her", she now knows.  
"That can't be. You salted and burned her", Sam brings to mind.  
"I'm aware of that, Sam. But something is keeping her here, an object maybe. I don't know. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!", she curses as she opens her closet and takes out her suit.  
"Guess you're staying in town a bit longer than expected", he concludes.  
"Guess so, but I don't have time for this crap", Zoë sighs as she takes of her shirt and puts on a white blouse without embarrassment.  
Sam looks away as he remembers the awkward moment in her room in Minnesota. For a moment he considers offering her help on the case, but he's quite sure she will reject anyway. Hastened she gets into her trousers which she just got out of the drycleaner plastic.  
"How can you be sure it's Laura?", Sam asks.  
"Laura was a 4th grader at _Woodrow Wilson Elementary_", she explains.  
"So? What did Van Dyke ever do to her?", he questions.  
"Her teacher knew about the abuse, my guess is that the principal didn't do anything about it", Zoë presumes.  
"How do you know that her teacher knew? How can you possibly know that already? Admit it, you see things", Sam's sure of it.

Zoë sighs and looks at him. She realizes he was going to find out about her special ability sooner or later. But can she trust Sam? He's special, just like she is and neither he or she have a clue what is going on with them. She barely trusts herself right now. Not to mention, he's a fellow hunter, who she only met yesterday.  
"I have dreams too".  
The confession is just as a surprise to Sam as it is to Zoë, did she just say that out loud? Overwhelmed Sam stares at her, but he's not sure if he's so stunned by the information of the statement itself or because of the fact that Zoë just told him the truth. Disorientated he looks away as it slowly starts to sink in what this means; he's not alone.  
"You have visions, just like me?", he asks.  
"Not entirely", Zoë says as she buttons her black jacket. "You dream about the future, I dream about the past".  
"Like flashbacks?", Sam questions.  
"Something like that, yeah. But there's no possible way I could know these things, you know? Most of the time I don't even know the people involved and I was never actually there", she tells with frustration in her voice.  
"Tell me 'bout it…", Sam huffs.  
Zoë smiles and looks up. A feeling she hasn't felt for years come to her. Relief, as if a weight just fell of her shoulders now that she finally told someone about the secret she has been carrying around. She wishes she could just blur it all out right now, all the other stuff too, bus she can't, it's not a wise thing to do. Sure she can share some things when it's convenient, but there will always be some issues she can't talk about. Besides, there's little time and still a lot to do. She puts on her pumps and takes her FBI identification out of her duffel and puts it in her inside pocket.  
"That's how you pick your cases, don't you?", Sam now understands how Zoë can get to a scene with not much visual evidence, at least not visible for outsiders.  
"First I didn't, because I didn't understood the dreams, but then I thought: Hey, I'm having these flashbacks for a reason, I might as well check it out", she tells.  
"Good point", Sam realizes.  
Maybe he should start seeing the dreams as clues as well. If he would had listened to the visions in the first place, Jessica might still be alive right now. He watches Zoë get ready to go undercover as she binds her hair together in a knot. She seems stressed out and upset, Sam hasn't seen her this restless before. He doesn't understand why she's acting like this, so the case is going to take a little longer than expected, it's not the end of the world. Something is up.

"What's going on, Zo?", Sam asks upfront.  
For a moment she stops with what she was doing and places her hands on her hips. She takes a breath as she searches for words, deciding what she can tell him without giving him too much information.  
"I'm on bit of a time schedule", she admits. "I need to finish this case before tonight".  
"What kind of time schedule?", he asks curious.  
"It's personal", she cuts off immediately.  
Her eyes stare into his, it's clear she is absolutely not going to talk about this. Intimidated by her gaze, he decides not to dig further.  
"What happens if you can't free her spirit in time?"  
"I'll have to leave town, case closed or not", she answers simple as she gathers some stuff.  
"What? You're just gonna give up?", Sam disapproves disbelieving.  
"I've seen hunters do it before", she says with a tone straightening her back and giving him her full attention.  
"So? Then they suck!", Sam cries out.  
Zoë chuckles, finding his words ironic, but the young Winchester isn't finished yet.  
"Laura will keep haunting this town and every one who might have the slightest connection with her death. Do you have any idea how many could end up dead?", Sam tries to make her realize.  
"I don't… have… a choice", she states, pronouncing her words slowly.  
"You do", Sam corrects.  
"And what's that, smart ass?", Zoë responds, not really that interested.  
She has gathered her keys and her motorcycle helmet, now she picks up her Nokia from her cupboard, apparently she intends to leave right now. Nevertheless Sam doesn't seize his lecture.  
"Let us help you", he offers.  
She slowly turns her head and stares at him for a brief moment, then she laughs out loud.

"No way", she chuckles.  
"Why not?", Sam wants to know.  
"Because I don't team up with others. It makes you vulnerable. You start to trust people you shouldn't trust and when it all goes wrong, people die", she explains clearly.  
"What about covering each other's backs, looking out for your partner?", Sam brings up the bright side of cooperation.  
"Apparently that doesn't work for me, and believe me; I've experienced it", Zoë states.  
Sam's not sure what the young woman means by that, but he can read from her eyes that whatever happened, it still hurts her. He keeps quiet for a moment, but then continues with a calm tone.  
"Hear me out. We can take over the case completely and you can go wherever you need to go. We're in the same hunting field, so why shoot at each other in order to get rid of the competition when we can split up. Dean and I can handle this", Sam ensures.  
"I believe you can, but I'm not the type who lets someone else do the dirty laundry. I got this one", she insists and heads for the door. "Now if you'd excuse me, I have a crime scene to investigate".  
Zoë holds the door and Sam sighs. There seems to be no way to get through to that woman! Slightly frustrated he walks outside and she locks the door. The dim thumps of her heels echo through the hallway as she hastily walks to the parking lot as she takes out her sunglasses. Just before she walks out, Sam stops her by laying her hand on her shoulder.  
"If you need help, call me", he insists.  
"You know I won't, Sammy", she reacts annoyed and escapes from his grip.  
"Don't call me Sammy", he makes clear loud enough for her to hear it.  
She doesn't respond and walks over to her Harley Davidson as she puts on her helmet. Without any hesitation she starts her engine and drives off, not even bothering to say goodbye. Sam sighs, and he thought his brother was hopeless. Defeated he turns to the Impala, which is parked next to the entrance. A thin layer of dust covers the black car, which seem to boil in the early morning sun. It's awfully quiet. No ear blasting rock song from the radio, no Dean jamming on his air guitar. He glares through the window of the passengers side and finds his brother fast asleep. He can't see Dean's eyes because of the black sunglasses he's wearing, but his head rests half against the window, tilted slightly backwards. Sam's thoughts go back to the day before yesterday, when they parked the car in front of the pharmacy and Dean scared the crap out of him by slamming his fist against the window.

Of course, Sam can't resist to do the same thing and hits the window right on the spot where Dean's leaning against on the other side.  
"Kelly Clarkson!", Dean cries out in total shock as he almost jumps up against the hardtop of the car, making a snoring sound right after.  
With a big smile on his face Sam walks around the car just as victoriously as his brother did the other afternoon and settles in the drivers seat. When he sees the startled face of his brother, he can't help but to laugh.  
"Man, that's so not cool", Dean sighs with raspy voice as he rubs his face.  
"Got what I came for", Sam holds up his Blackberry.  
"Did you had to wake me up for that?", Dean takes of his glasses and squints against the bright sunlight.  
"No, that was just for fun", Sam grins.  
"Bitch", Dean grumbles.  
"Jerk", Sam returns with a smile. "I have another update by the way".  
"Oh yeah? What's that?", Dean asks not really that interested, resting his head against the windshield again.  
"You can call Denise that you're staying in town for a couple of days", Sam informs.  
He got Dean's attention alright. He looks up at his younger brother and although he can barely keep his eyes open, Sam can read from his face that he's curious for more info.  
"What? Werewolf turned out to be a grizzly?", Dean says.  
"Not really, but there's till a case here", Sam tells his brother as he takes the car keys out of his pocket.  
"So? It's Sullivan's case, no finger of mine which is touching that", Dean makes clear.  
"Aren't you happy you can hang out with Denise?", Sam asks, hoping to change his mind.  
"Oh no, I know what you're doing", Dean sits up straight and grins, knowing he's on to him. "You're trying to make this seem all bright and shiny, but this isn't about Denise. Spill it".  
Sam sighs. Damn, there goes his master plan. Although he gets the impression that Dean hates Zo, Sam decides to tell the truth.  
"I think Zoë needs help", he admits.  
"The last time you thought that I ended up in a bridal suite with a shapeshifter and you ended up in a septic tank with our damsel in distress", Dean recalls. "Did she ask for your help?"  
"No, not really", Sam says.  
"Did she except your offer?", Dean asks again.  
"No, but…"

Sam doesn't finishes his line, but just looks over at his brother. One glare at him and Dean knows enough, she rejected.  
"Then we aren't helping her", Dean decides.  
"Come on, Dean. We can't leave her like that", Sam tries.  
"She's a big girl, Sam. And a damn good hunter too. She'll be fine", Dean ensures.  
"I don't know, man. It's just not right. She told me she's on some sort of time schedule or something", Sam sighs.  
"Yeah, her period. Guessing she's in one right now", Dean says smartly.  
He loses his interests in the conversation and crosses his arms in front of him after he puts on his sunglasses. Tired but satisfied he tugs deeper into the seat.  
"She's gonna leave town tonight, finished or not", Sam clarifies.  
Dean takes off his glasses again and looks aside.  
"You really think she would leave a job unfinished?", Dean questions.  
"Apparently", Sam shrugs.  
"Must be pretty damn important then", the eldest concludes. "I guess it wouldn't hurt if me stay till tonight, see if she makes her deadline. But after that, we're off to Texas. I was looking forward to that wolf hunt".  
"Sure?", Sam checks.  
"Yeah sure", Dean takes out his phone and blinks a few times, as if he's has difficulty not to shut his eyes.  
Sam starts the car and immediately _Creedence Clearwater Rivival_'s _Looking Out My Back Door_ sounds from the radio. By the time Sam is about to leave the parking lot, Dean has already looked up Denise's phonenumber and is on the phone with her right now.  
"Yeah, I'd love to get together again!... Well, I'll probably have to leave town in a few days, so… tonight? Yeah, sounds great", Dean gives Sam an exaggerated wink and a thumbs up.  
"At her place", Sam whispers to his brother.  
"One sec, sweetheart", Dean presses his hand on the microphone and looks aside. "Having plans for tonight, Romeo?"

Sam gives him a look and Dean turns back to Denise, who started talking to him again.  
"Your place, you say? At eight? Cool, I'll see you tonight then… looking forward to it too!... See ya", they both hang up and Dean smiles as if he just bought the winning lottery ticket.  
"I'm one lucky bastard, you know that?", he grins.  
Sam shakes his head chuckling, he's never going to learn. Just as Sam decides to turn right, a weird soft roar sounds from inside the car.  
"What the hell was that?", Sam looks around.  
"My GPS is telling you to make a left", Dean explains.  
The youngest of the two looks aside at his brother who's pressing his hand on his hungry stomach. Apparently Dean thinks it takes too long before the penny drops.  
"Dude! I'm hungry and you wanna turn right when there's a _McDonald's_ on the left?", he cries out.  
Now Sam looks over to the left and spots the large pole with the yellow 'M' on top, right next to the _Sunset Motel_. He laughs, he should have known.  
"I see", he grins and makes a left. "Drive thru?"


	5. Chapter 5

Confident Zoë dugs under the yellow _'crime scene do not cross'_ line and takes out her federal agent ID before the officer guarding the scene can ask her about it. He steps away humbly and lets her through. It's about 10 AM, but the sun is already burning on this warm September day. She wishes she didn't have to wear this black suit, it's absorbing every bit of sunlight that fireball shines down on her. As she walks up the driveway she unbuttons her jacket to let in some air as her heals click on the concrete. The Stars and Stripes hasn't been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. Not only the yard looks amazing, so does the house, so does the entire street. It's obvious that families living in these homes on the Lexington Drive are wealthy ones. The ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scamming the entire place indicate that something is terribly wrong, otherwise you would think this is the last place on earth a crime would be committed. Two officers discuss the case on the royal porch and look in her direction as she approaches them.  
"Agent Evans, FBI", Zoë flashes her ID.  
"You guys are quick", a tall bald man who looks kind of freaky comments.  
"I was in the county, my partner will probably be here soon", she lies as she puts away her identification.  
"I see", he holds out his hand. "Officer Devoir. This is my partner Lee Jenkins".  
As he introduces himself and his colleague, Zoë gives them a powerful handshake and represents herself as most FBI agents do; arrogant and secure.  
"I have work to do, so if you'd be so kind so show me the way", she says bored.  
"Follow me", officer Devoir steps inside the house, knowing his partner and the fed will follow.  
Zoë walks in and nods approving as she takes a look around.  
"Nice crib", she comments as she glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster.  
Two high roman pillars support the ceiling and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch underneath their feet is made out of marble. A golden chandelier hangs above them, an expensive bouquet placed on the hard wooden round table in the center of the main room gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like the White House than as a principal's home in a town called Paragould.

"As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke liked to live the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions", officer Jenkins explains, as if he was reading Zoë's mind. "We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke's death".  
As they climb the stairs Zoë huffs, but doesn't say a word. She doubts it of course, money has nothing to do with this.  
"You believe something else is going on?", Devoir questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh.  
"We're looking in to it", she says stern, without giving too much away.  
A silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it many times before. Most cops hate the feds, simply because as soon as a case gets a little more interesting, the FBI takes over. She lets her hand glide off the banister as she reaches the second floor.  
"This way", Devoir signals them as he turns left on the vestibule.  
The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns. In the corner of the room lays a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes widened. It's not the first time Zoë sees a dead guy, but she wasn't expecting such a violent murder from a ten year old girl. Apparently his head got smashed into the show case; glass is scattered all his body. He has bruises and cuts all over his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken and seems to be off center, the head made an 90° turn and tilts in a weird way only dolls can do. Zoë scans the room, which shows several sighs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Devoir and his partner about the case. Zoë glances over and notices the CSU logo on her jacket and walks over to tune in.  
"…time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints, no nothing. This place is clean", the forensic states.  
"Look at this place, there must be something", Officer Devoir's gaze glides through the crime scene.  
"Not even a fiber, nothing that might lead to answers", she sighs. "I have to say, I've never seen anything like this".  
"Almost as if the suspect didn't leave anything behind?"  
It's the so called FBI agent who mixes into the conversation.

"Someone just did a good job covering up", Devoir huffs, not finding her remark relevant.  
_Dude, you have no idea_, Zoë thinks. She doesn't cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready to fire. But she doesn't, she has learned not to act too perky around cops, usually it just pisses them off and that won't get her any further.  
"There's one thing though, but it adds more confusion to this murder than it clears up".  
The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder and because of that the sleeve seems to long at the end.  
"Looks like someone pulled him down by his sleeve. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him", she clarifies.  
"The murderer was shorter than the victim", Devoir concludes.  
"Not just a little shorter, I'm talking about round 4'5" here, looking at the angle", the forensic adds up.  
"About the height of a ten year old, right?", Zoë questions, as the clues sum up.  
"Yeah, probably, but that's impossible. Even if a ten year old is capable of doing such things, it wouldn't have the strength", she out rules.  
Impossible isn't in Zoë's dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke's killer is. She is dealing with one furious child ghost here. Being on a time schedule, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family.  
"Thanks very much, I've got everything I need", she greets the forensic and turns to officer Devoir, which she gives a light nod with the head.  
They greet back without much interest and remain in the room, as Zoë walks down the corridor again, going through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put the people who harmed her through the same horror she experienced before it caused her to die. She simply shows them who's boss, just like her father use to teach her. Back on the first floor, she spots the dining room, from where she can hear soft crying. She realizes it's probably the family and shows her ID for the third time this morning to the officer guarding the room. The door is half opened and she pushes it further open in order to get through. The Van Dyke family are gathered together. A pale woman, probably in her forties with short grey hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be Mr. Van Dyke's daughter. Her few year younger brother stares outside, grieving but quiet. Immediately Zoë feels sorry for the family. She knows loss, but this must be horrible for them to go through.

"Mrs. Van Dyke?", she asks compassionately.  
The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, who sits down on one of the dining table chairs. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke's wife her identification.  
"I'm Federal agent Sharon Evans, I would like to ask you a few questions if that's alright", she says.  
"Sure", the mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears.  
"Your husband's death has taken place between 6:30 and 7 'O clock this morning. Where were you at this time?", Zoë questions calmly.  
"I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast", Mrs. Van Dyke answers upset.  
"And you heard nothing?", she carefully asks.  
"Not a sound. Heather was in her room next to Bill's office, she didn't hear a thing until the dog started barking, that's when she found him", the poor woman tells her.  
Dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have, animals intend to respond to activity like this. But she does find it strange that their daughter didn't hear a thing. Suddenly she remembers that the article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire's murder, his family was home during the incident too.  
"That would be it for now, thank you for your time", Zoë notifies and smiles politely.  
As soon as she receives an approving nod from Mrs. Van Dyke, she turns around and leaves the room. Hastened she exits the house and steps into the hot sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on. It all makes sense now. Laura isn't just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death, she's recreating how she got killed herself. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was more in use of a boxing ball and got to see her father's fist on daily base, but it's not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like they were isolated during the attack. Again she goes back to the clear images she still carries around in her head. The way Mrs. Shire just continued eating her potatoes, she didn't even flinch. As if she couldn't bare to hear it, as if she didn't want to. She just ignored the beatings, just like Laura's brother did. She walks down Lexington Drive, back to her bike which she parked at the baseball fields. Unlike the police, Zoë is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't believe we're actually doing this".  
Dean has been complaining the whole time since they left the _McDonald's_, where Sam came up with his newest idea. The two neat gentlemen, dressed in suites, approach _Arkansas Methodist Medical Center_, as they just left the Impala on the parking lot of the hospital.  
"We are, so get use to it", Sam sighs annoyed, getting tired of the constant wining of his brother. "You have the ID's?"  
Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing Sam the two fake federal agent ID's.  
"FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?", Sam stares at the cards.  
"Dad and I do it all the time, no sweat", Dean doesn't seem to be worried about getting caught one bit.  
"What if they look up our numbers? This is suicide!", Sam tries to keep his voice down as they pass people who walk in and out of the hospital.  
"You know what's suicide? Meddling with Zoë's case, that's suicide", Dean returns smartly.  
"Oh come on, how bad can it be?", Sam has a better opinion about the girl they met a little while ago than Dean has.  
"You should have seen here the other day when she found out about that phone call we made with that Cliffer dude and that act wasn't even on purpose, now we actually choose to get involved", Dean argues.  
He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their names, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn't know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is actually the full name of one of Dean's favorite rock band's leadsinger; Angus Young, the face of AC/DC. Sam concentrates on his older brother again and the moment passes.

"All what we are doing is helping her", Sam states, while entering the lobby of the hospital.  
"Exactly! We are helping her while she's bitching on us all day long. I'm dressed like a penguin while I know she won't ever thank us, even if we have this major breakthrough", Dean complains as he loosens his tie a bit.  
"Look man, we can sit on our ass and waist this day or…"  
"I prefer that actually", the eldest intervenes.  
"_OR_…", Sam continues. "We can do something useful".  
With those last words Sam walks through the revolving door of the governmental facility and is followed by Dean who keeps his mouth shut. Now that they are surrounded by people they get into character and head straight for the main desk in front of them. Confident Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter.  
"Agent Young, this is my partner agent Angus. We're here to see a dead body", Dean clarifies.  
"You came to the right place", she comments bored, apparently not impressed by their badges.  
Then she calls for an older man in a long white coat who just passed by.  
"Dr. Judigtsteyn? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?", she asks him.  
"Of course, I'm heading over there anyway", he agrees as Dean and Sam walk with him.  
"Who are you here for?", the doctor asks as they walk through the long typical hospital like hallways.  
"Mr. Robert Shire", Sam informs as they stop at the elevator.

A bit shocked Dr. Judigtsteyn looks up, but quickly recovers. Both Dean and Sam notices the reaction and give each other a look.  
"I'm sorry, it's just that… Robert wasn't just a colleague of mine, he was my friend", the doctor tells them.  
As Sam remembers the newspaper article he read the other night in Zoë's motel room, Dean improvises. He has no background information on Robert Shire, Sam hopes he doesn't make any dumb mistakes, but he doesn't.  
"Our condolences", Dean says, as Judigtsteyn pushes the button which calls the elevator down.  
"Unbelievable, isn't it? We see death every day and yet when it strikes close by, you never see it coming", the man speaks wisely.  
"Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?", Sam asks.  
"More or less, I did the autopsy myself, I was stunned", Judigtsteyn tells as they enter the elevator.  
Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As the elevator slowly moves down, Dean tries to find out if Dr. Judigtsteyn knows more about the case then he's willing to let go at this point.  
"We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence", he fills in.  
"I heard about that on the news, CSU is still on that though", Dr. Judigtsteyn says as the doors open.  
They enter the lab in the basement of the hospital. It's cool in this section and an unpleasant smell fills the area, a mixture of chemicals and death. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls open one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag. An almost unbearable smell rises up from the corpse, but all three men are use to the smell.  
"What's so stunning about this case?", Sam asks.  
"See for yourself", the doctor answers.  
He unzips the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows.  
"Ouch", Dean comments.

The body of Laura's father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a streetgang in a dark alley. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse.  
"That's not all", Dr. Judigtsteyn adds up as he takes out the file. "I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single hair on him".  
Dean gives Sam a look without the doctor seeing it. Judigtsteyn might have never seen this before, they have. Ghost never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.  
"One other thing caught my attention", the doctor points out the bruises. "See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on his knees, which would be most unlikely, or we are dealing with a midget here".  
The doctor chuckles over his own joke and Dean lets out a little laugh, obviously just to be polite.  
"Have you considered a child?", Sam questions carefully.  
"I have for a brief moment, but it's theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it used objects to hit the victim with. We're basically on a dead end", the doctor explains.  
They might be stuck, but Sam and Dean still have enough leads to go on. Sam nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they've gathered the information they were looking for.  
"Thank you for your time, doctor", Dean pretends to have seen enough.  
"You're welcome, I hope you'll get this one", the old man mentions while he cleans up.  
"We will", Sam ensures as they step into the elevator.  
As soon as the doors close, the youngest of the two turns to the other.  
"Laura, definitely", he states.  
"You sure?", Dean questions, as a _'ding'_ sounds trough the small cabin and the doors open.  
"It must be, the lower angle indicates a child ghost, so unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, it's Laura", Sam sums up as he takes out his phone.  
"Who are you gonna call?", Dean asks curious.

"Ghostbuster Zoë", Sam answers with a smirk as he looks up her number and presses the green button as soon as they set foot outside the hospital.  
"Shouldn't we get to the bomb shelter first?", the eldest suggests cynical.  
"This information could be useful", Sam bounces back as the exit the hospital.  
Before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.  
"Sullivan".  
"Hey Zo, it's Sam. Listen, I've got some info on Robert Shire for you", Sam steps to the case.  
"Wow, what?", Zoë recalls confused.  
"We went to the Medical Center to see Shire's body".  
Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gives him a mad look.  
"What are you including me for?", he whispers, making sure Zoë can't hear him.  
"You did what?", her voice trembles of anger, but she tries to keep calm.  
"I figured I could spare you some time by going myself…"  
"You _figured_?", she cries out loud enough for Dean to hear it.  
"Take cover!", Dean tells his brother dramatically.  
Annoyed Sam pushes him away and gets back to Zoë.  
"We didn't mess anything up if that's what you're worried about", he states defensive.  
"I don't give a rat's ass if you solved the freakin' case! You didn't listen!", she shouts at him.

"You're not my boss!", Sam makes clear.  
He stops in his tracks and Dean turns to him, trying to figure out what Zoë's saying, quite amused by the situation actually.  
"No, I'm not, but this is not a shop we're running, Sam! You can't go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!"  
"It was an innocent morgue visit!", Sam cries out while making a wild gesture. "And honestly, would you have said 'yes' if I asked you first?"  
"No of course not! But I swear Winchester", she warns. "If you and your brother cross my path again…"  
"What? You'll kill us?", Sam huffs. "Listen to me, Zoë. Robert Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken. That's all the info I've got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want".  
Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam pushes the red button. It's only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods appreciating.  
"No more Mr. Nice Guy, I like it", he comments and then turns around.  
Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still frustrated though. Together they walk over to the Chevrolet Impala. Dean can't help but to smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and sighs.  
"Just say it", he says before he sits down in the passenger seat.  
"Say what?", Dean pulls an innocent face.  
"You know what", Sam pushes.  
Dean looks at him and shrugs, still deciding if he should say the words who are longing to be said.  
"Hate to say I told you so", he blurs out on a whiney tone.

"No you don't", Sam sits down and closes the door.  
Dean does the same and turns the key, as the Impala starts and lets out a enthusiastic spur. _People Are Strange_ by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam just stares through the windshield, annoyed and pissed off.  
"Why doesn't she just drop the act?", Sam wonders.  
"I'm not sure if it's an act, Sammy", Dean checks his back mirror before steers his precious car onto the road.  
"It has to be. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her", he recalls.  
"So? People change", Dean simply declares.  
"Maybe, but this is just stupid. We're in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can't be that hard to except our help", Sam just doesn't get it.  
"Apparently she's just socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already so that we can go hunt some wolf", Dean suggests.  
The youngest of the two brothers considers it for a moment as they drive by _Linwood Cemetery_. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road, but Zoë's Harley isn't parked on the _Sunset Motel _parking lot. As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay.  
"No, we agreed to stay in town till tonight. I don't want to leave Laura to die", Sam recalls.  
"Sam, she's already dead!", Dean sighs.  
"Poor choice of words, sorry. But her victims aren't", Sam brings to mind. "Zoë will leave tonight, case closed or not. It's almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?"  
"Half a day", Dean answers smartly.  
"Denise?"

It's Sam who mentions the beautiful blonde Dean spent the night with; he knows his brother's weak spot. Dean doesn't like to admit it, but that is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam's mention while Dean thinks through his options.  
"Point taken", he gives in. "But I'll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around".  
"She will, believe me. She's not as bad as she pretends she is", Sam states, sure of his words.  
"I know her better than you do", Dean weights up.  
"I don't believe so", Sam returns.  
"Wanna bet?", Dean looks aside as this argument is starting to turn into a did not, did too fight.  
A moment later Sam phone rings. Surprised he checks the screen for the number, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it's Zoë. Disbelieving the eldest watches how his brother presses the answering button, but Sam doesn't give up the mad attitude just yet.  
"What", he sighs, still mad at her.  
"What are you up to?"  
The youngest of the Winchesters isn't sure if she's asking him if he's still intending to mess with her case or that she's asking if he has some spare time.  
"That depends", he answers shortly.  
"You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke", she informs.  
"So?"  
"Might be something", she realizes.  
Sam keeps his mouth shut and an unpleasant silence follows between the two of them. Obviously it irritates Zoë.  
"Knock it off!"

"No Zoë! We're helping you out and this is what we get?", Sam returns.  
"It's not that I don't appreciate it! It's just…"  
Sam can hear her sigh on the other side, apparently she has difficulty getting out the words.  
"I don't want to abandon this case and let you do the work, okay? I can't tell you why, but I have my reasons", she tries to explain.  
"Okay, but wouldn't it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you'll make you're deadline?", Sam suggests, calmer than a moment before.  
"Covering more ground you mean?"  
"Yeah, exactly", the youngest Winchester confirms.  
Again a sigh while Zoë thinks through her options. Not that she has many, this is the best shot she has.  
"Maybe you're right…", she mumbles with difficulty. "But whatever happens, I'll be gone tonight. We have to take care of this today, alright?"  
"We will", Sam assures.  
"So, do we meet up or what?", Zoë sort of suggests.  
"Yeah sure", Same agrees.  
"Where are you at?"  
Before Sam answers he checks the name of the highway they are on.  
", going west. We're staying at the _Ramada Inn_", Sam tells.  
"Crappy motel", Zoë comments.  
"Tell me 'bout it", he huffs.

"Shut up, they have a wet T-shirt contest on Friday", Dean intervenes, who apparently overhears them.  
"It's Saturday, moron", Zoë returns.  
Sam laughs and puts his phone on speaker now that Dean tuned in to their conversation.  
"I know, today there's a pole dancing contest", the eldest of the three smirks.  
"I've heard enough, Dean's heaven on earth", Zoë concludes. "Is your one night stand attending or is that where you picked her up?"  
"Did I just hear jealousy?", Dean nags, not even a bit insulted.  
"It's called a bad mood, Winchester", she returns. "So what's it gonna be? _McDonald's_ or _Taco Bell_?"  
"There's a _Taco Bell_ in this town?", Dean asks stunned.  
"Are you blind or somethin'? Less then a mile up the road from your paradise".  
Dean looks ahead as he exits the highway. She's right, a little further up the highway a road sign invites them in for a good taco bite.  
"I was a little busy last night to notice that", he recalls.  
"Too much information, dude", Sam comments, shaking his head.  
"_Taco Bell_ it is then. I'm fed up with _McDonald's_", Zoë decides.  
"Already?", Dean asks, unable to imagine how she could probably be fed up with that delicious junkfood after 30 hours.  
"I had five Big Macs in less two days", she clarifies.  
"Five?", both the boys eyes widen, it's Dean who recovers fastest.  
"Have you tasted that Mc Bacon? It's epic, I tell ya", he can almost taste the burger again.  
"I know! Amazing isn't it?"

Stunned Sam stares from the phone to Dean. Did the unthinkable just happened? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something a moment ago? Remarkable, but true, here is the one subject they can't fight about; food.  
"Zo?", he interrupts.  
"Yeah?"  
"See you at _Taco Bell_", he finishes and hangs up.  
Dean stops the car in front of the _Ramada Inn_ and turns off the ignition. Before he gets out of the car, he detects Sam glaring at him with a satisfied grin on his face.  
"What?", Dean questions.  
"Hate to say I told you so", Sam rubs in and gets out.  
With a confused look upon his face Dean gets out of his car himself and locks it. He glares at his brother over the top of his car, who's waiting for him to get it. Then Dean realizes Sam is right; Zoë came around.  
"No you don't", he huffs and walks around the car.  
Sam 's smile widens as they walk to their room. Dean is already unbuttoning the black undercover jacket, time to get into something a bit less warm. It's 12 O' clock and the sun is burning. Mexican taco's sure fit in with these temperatures and probably both of them would rather lay down on a bench somewhere and enjoy the weather. But no, they have to help a fellow hunter who turns out to be a bit of a pain in the ass at certain times, just to kill some time. Dean smiles as he strolls into the room Sam just opened and throws his jacket down on the chair; maybe they can all be considered workaholics.


	7. Chapter 7

A little less than an hour later, Sam, Dean and Zoë are sharing a table in _Taco Bell_, just a milestone away from the boys' motel. All scheduled in some time to trade their business suits for their everyday cloths. Dean is comfortable in his old leather jacket and his worn off jeans, while Sam is dressed a little bit more fancier white shirt. Zoë looks like a totally different person now that she left her black pumps, jacket and trousers in her motel room. She's wearing her hair down, which seems to curl a bit. Her grey shirt looks vintage, _'Born to be wild'_, it says, as if she drew it on the shirt herself. Her brand new biker jacket hangs over the back of the bench while she plays with the loose tie of her _All Stars_ shoe, wiggling it rhythmically. U2's _Beautiful Day_ is playing over the speakers, ironically yet true, considering the clear blue sky and warm sun outside. It's one of the rare occasions since they've met that they don't argue or actually talk at all. Satisfied they all eat their taco, Zoë as if she's intending to break the world record tailed by Dean. Stunned and a little disgusted, Sam stares at them both, as she finishes her first taco and starts off on the next one. Apparently Zoë doesn't feel the need to hold back now that it's their second lunch together. Dean doesn't even notice her manors as he shares her appetite, he's more annoyed that she's in the lead with almost half a taco. He looks up for a moment as she licks the sauce of her fingers after finishing her second one, then continues eating even faster than he did a moment ago.  
"Dude! Seriously, a foodrace?", Sam cries out.  
"Wholth?", Dean says with his mouth full.  
He swallows his bite, which apparently still contains a big piece of taco shell. He coughs and hits his chest with his fist, Zoë can't help to laugh when she sees tears appear in his eyes.  
"What are you? Five?", she grins.  
"I wasn't racing you", he muddles.  
"Oh, you were so into it", she glares at him smiling. "But you're right. You can't really consider it a race when I'm already far across the finish line".  
Obviously enjoying herself she wait for his reaction, as expected he goes for the counter attack.

"I wasn't racing you", he repeats. "Cause if I did, you would be many taco lengths behind, woman".  
"That's what's bugging you the most, isn't it? Dean just got defeated by a girl", she nags.  
"I can take you with ease", he claims confident.  
"You wouldn't stand a chance", she laughs in return.  
"Wanna bet?", Dean looks deep into her eyes.  
"Knock it off you two", Sam breaks it up and looks from the one to the other. "Now could we concentrate on the case, we all got better things to do".  
"I have better things to do, you just have the obsession of helping me", she corrects as she drinks from her milkshake.  
Dean chuckles and receives a glare from his younger brother.  
"I'm not obsessed", he mumbles.  
"Whatever, man", Dean lets out a small burp after finishing his lunch. "But story short, we're dealing with a frustrated kid who kills everyone involved with her death".  
"Looks like it", Zoë confirms.  
"So, what do we do about it?", he throws the question in the group.  
"That's where we have the first problem. I already burned her bones", Zoë blows bubbles through the straw in her milkshake, apparently a little bored.  
"She must be connected to some kind of object then, are you sure you burned everything?", Dean checks.  
Zoë slightly tilts her head and glares at him insulted, but Sam jumps in line for her.  
"We're sure, I was there with her", Sam ensures.  
"Nothing more romantic than a night at the graveyard", Dean comments sarcastically.

"Beg pardon?"  
Zoë sets down her milkshake and stares from one to the other.  
"Never mind", Sam quickly cuts in, giving his brother a look.  
With a grin Dean lays back in his chair as Zoë keeps observing them with a confused look upon her face. He decides to continue with the original conversation without wondering off, otherwise Sam might kill him.  
"Anyway, the little brat is still around, so we need to figure out what's keeping her here so that we can all go our separate ways and never see each other again", he states with a cynical smile on his face.  
"The people who are connected to her death are keeping her here. I don't think she'll rest until she killed every single one of them", Zoë speaks up.  
"Or she wants the truth out in the open", Sam considers.  
"So, who could be her next target?", Dean wonders.  
"It could be anyone, but the biggest candidates for a one way ticket to the land of the dead are probably Mrs. Shire and her son, maybe even Mrs. Dawlson", Zoë realizes.  
"Who?", Sam and Dean question at the same time.  
"Her teacher at her Elementary School. She knew about the abuse", she informs, sipping her cold drink.  
"How do you know that?", Dean likes to know.  
"I had a chat with her", she explains simply.  
Dean takes her words for granted and doesn't notice that Sam and Zoë's eyes meet. As soon as he sees the look she gives him, he knows she didn't talk to Mrs. Dawlson; she saw it all happen.  
"There could be a dozen more possible victims we don't know about", Sam states as he breaks the strange silence.  
"True, but to figure that out we need to find more info on what happened to Laura", she declares.  
"We already know what happened to her. Her dad abused her till death followed, nothing to add to that", Sam says.

"No, I mean after that", Zoë leans forward and puts her hands together, resting her elbows on the edge of their table. "Don't you think it's a little strange that no one found out about this murder yet? Laura was buried without a conviction, while she obviously did not die a natural death. She must have been a mess, considering what her victims look like", she ponders.  
Both boys nod as a sign of agreement, she has a point. Dean rubs his chin as he thinks.  
"Dr. Judigtsteyn", he says out of the blue.  
"I know that name", Zoë realizes, trying to remember where she heard it before.  
"It's the doc from the morgue", he fills in. "He did the slicing on Shire's dead body. I thought he responded weird when Sam mentioned the Hobbiton dude".  
"Is the _Methodist Medical Cente_r the only dead men's storage in town?", Zoë asks the brightest of the boys.  
"Not sure, let me check", Sam takes out his laptop and sets it up on the table.  
As he works the computer, Zoë continues their brainstorming session.  
"One way or the other, we have to get our hands on Laura's death report and we need to figure out who wrote it. I'm guessing someone covered for Shire", she speaks up.  
"Is that actually possible these days?", Sam responds, surprised by her statement.  
"You think we're the only ones who lie and deceive?", Zoë returns with a bit of an attitude.  
"This dude was a well appreciated doc, right? Maybe he had some influence in higher places", Dean brings to mind.  
"Blackmail", his younger brother concludes.  
"I'm just saying it's a possibility", Dean admits.  
"Mrs. Shire might know more in that case", Sam mentions.  
"If it is blackmail, she might, but we can't run off and confront her with it just like that. If she doesn't know, it's just gonna bring a but load of drama and a hell of a lot explaining to do when she starts asking questions", Zoë makes clear.

She forks her fingers through her hair and checks her phone for the time; it's almost 1 PM. She's frustrated about the many blank pages of this case, there's so much what she doesn't get.  
"I don't understand why she isn't just gone. There was nothing left of her remains", she sighs.  
"There has to be an explanation for that", Sam ponders, as he stares at his screen.  
"Got something?", Dean checks when he sees the change in Sam's facial expression.  
"No other morgues than the one at the Medical Center on W. Kingshighway", he concludes from the single address on his computer.  
"I tell you what", with a neat throw Zoë tosses her empty plastic cup into the garbage can across the aisle. "Sam, you keep an eye on the Shire family, Dean's gonna have a chat with that Judig-what's-his-face, see if you can get some info on that death report. I'm gonna tail that teacher for a while", she decides.  
"Sounds good to me", Sam nods approving as he shuts down his computer and gets up.  
"Make sure you keep your eyes open, that little pain in the ass manages to beat up grown ups without the people next door noticing", Zoë warns as she picks up her helmet from the bench.  
"You think this is our first hunt or something?", Dean responds insulted.  
"You didn't saw me comin' the other night in Rochester", she counters smartly.  
As she passes him she pets his right shoulder, which she shot only two nights ago. Dean quickly grabs his shoulder as the pain shoots through his arm again. Before he can call her names, she leaves the fastfood restaurant and the door slams in his face.  
"Mark my words, one of these days I'm gonna shoot her down", he spits frustrated.  
"Yeah, sure you will", Sam responds sarcastically as he puts his laptop in his backpack.  
"You can have the car if you drop me off at the hospital. Let's get this over with", the eldest muddles.  
Sam chuckles, enjoying the fact that his big brother is being told what to do by a girl, while normally he only takes orders from one person and one person only; his dad. Zoë seems to have a strange effect on both the boys.  
"And you know what's the fun part?", Sam nags as they exit Taco Bell.

"What?", Dean says, obviously already annoyed.  
They walk up to the car as Dean scans the area in order to spot Zoë's Road King, but she already took off.  
"You have to dress like a penguin again", the youngest smiles as he opens the door to the passenger's seat.  
His brother stares at him over the top of the car, realizing he's going undercover as the FBI agent Young once more.  
"Ah come on! Can't we trade?", he asks desperate.  
"No way, dude", Sam laughs and sits down.  
Dean does the same and closes his door, but doesn't let his eyes of his brother.  
"Ah man, I hate suits!", he cries out as he takes out his shades and puts them on.  
"You think I'm comfortable in one during these temperatures?", Sam returns.  
"Sam, I don't care if I'm freezing my ass off outside, I will never be at ease in that ridiculous outfit", Dean says annoyed, but then smiles as he turns the ignition and _Gimme Three Steps_ by Lynyrd Skynyrd starts playing on the radio.  
"I'm not trading places, I can work some stuff out while I'm guarding the house", Sam explains, looking outside the window, squinting against the sun.  
"What stuff?", Dean questions rapidly, making sure it's not just some lame excuse.  
Sam looks aside and hesitates for a moment, but then tells him anyway.  
"I called some friends of Dad", he admits.  
He feels Dean's piercing gaze, but doesn't look up. It's only a matter of seconds before Dean pops the first question.

"Why?", Dean asks stern.  
"Why? I don't know 'bout you, Dean, but I wanna find him", Sam returns defensive.  
"So do I, but I don't think it's wise to start calling random hunters to ask where he is, Sam", Dean lets him know.  
"Why not?", he cries out.  
"Cause Dad doesn't want to be found!", the oldest of the two brothers states.  
"How could you _possibly_ know that, Dean! Seriously, do you have some kind of telepathic connection with the guy or what?", Sam overreacts.  
"Hey, you're the psychic one, not me", Dean bounces back. "If Dad wants us involved in this hunt, he will contact us one way or the other, you know that".  
"No, I don't. I haven't heard a word from him since I left for Stanford. I don't understand the blind faith you have in the man", Sam argues.  
"You were the one who left, Sammy, and let me tell you something", Dean pauses to enforce his words. "I trust him because he's good at what he does".  
"He's human, he makes mistakes just as anyone else and this time you won't be around to back him up. This isn't some demon that he's hunting, this is _THE_ demon, the demon that killed Mom, that killed Jess", the youngest rambles.  
"You think I don't realize that, Sam? Of course I'd rather be backing him up right now, but he decided to do this alone and I respect that. That's what a son is suppose to do, he should respect his father".  
Dean stares deep into Sam's eyes, the same way as John can when he makes his point. Sam grinds and looks away, there's no way he can turn Dean's mind around. He doesn't get him, he just doesn't. Dean drags him out of school to find his Dad and now that it's coming down to that moment, he doesn't want to go out looking for him. He's so sick of this 'pick up where he left off' crap, he just wants to find his Dad. It's all he can think off. Finding Dad and hunt down the bastard that killed Mom and Jessica. Scream, shout! Just say the damn words out loud! But he won't, it's no use. Just as it is with Dad, it's impossible to go against Dean. Sam huffs, and Dean claims _HE_ is like his old man. Without saying another word, Dean drives his Impala to their motel, convinced he made his point. But Sam isn't going to let go, neither will he trade places with Dean on their jobs. During his hours of watching the Shire family, he's gonna make those calls and he is going to find their Dad, rather Dean likes it, or not.


	8. Chapter 8

Bored out of her skull, Zoë flips the page of her newspaper for the third time, pretending to read it. She found a good spot on W. Court Street, on the terrace of a _Domino's Pizza_ Restaurant. Traffic drives by constantly, but from her table she has a clear view of the home of Taylor Dawlson, Laura's former teacher. It's 14:30 and Zoë has been guarding the Dawlson residence for over an hour now, but nothing happened yet. She hasn't had a call from the boys yet either, so she presumes everything is quiet at the Shire place and Dean is probably still talking to the doc. Taylor Dawlson is home, busy working around the house, keeping her daughter busy. Her husband Jeff is working the lawn at the moment. On the table in front of her, next to the slice of pepperoni pizza, Zoë installed her Macbook, which shows some information about the Dawlson family, just so that she knows what she's dealing with. She is a teacher at the _Woodrow Wilson Elementary School_, he's into sportswear and merchandizing. They've been married for seven years now and have a three year old daughter named Lesley. No criminal records on the parents, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a happy family, living in a nice neighborhood, right next to a church. One thing though, the mother happened to be in one of her flashbacks.  
She lets out a sigh of boredom and takes another bite of her delicious pizza. Then she feels her phone vibrating in her pocket. Quickly she takes out her Nokia and checks the screen; it's Sam.  
"What's up?", she answers with a yawn.  
"That exiting, huh?", Sam notices her bored voice.  
Sam is comfortable in the drivers seat of the Chevrolet Impala, which he parked across the street of the Shire residence, which is located on Reynolds Park Road. He has his window rolled down and rests his elbow on the door as he holds his phone to his ear. Unlike Zoë's lookout, the streets are almost completely empty in this neighborhood just outside the downtown area of Paragould. A beautiful house by the lake seems like the fairytale to live in, but in fact this place was the setting for violence and abuse for many years. But right now, just as at Zo's place to watch, there is absolutely nothing going on.  
"It's like watching a documentary on _Discovery Channel_ about snails", she comments, after which she bites off a piece of pizza.  
"Are you eating again?", Sam asks when he hears her chewing her food.  
"Dude, you sound like my Mom's dietician", Zoë responds with her mouth full.  
Sam chuckles and realizes the stern tone he just talked to her with.

"_Taco Bell_?"  
"No, I like a bit of variation in my daily cousine", she says, putting up a chique voice. "I'm having Italian right now".  
Sam raises his eyebrow and waits for a follow up, but can't help to comment on that.  
"Let me guess, pizza?", he grins.  
"_Domino's _to be precise", Zoë laughs.  
"How do you do that?", Sam asks still chuckling.  
"Do what?"  
"Eat so much, without… well, you know. Most girls always bitch about their weight and stuff", he says carefully, not wanting to insult her.  
"I can tell you had a long time girlfriend. Clothing and weight, the forbidden subjects", Zoë can't help but to grin.  
"It's extraordinary", Sam states.  
"What? The weirdness of women or the fact that I eat so much?", she jokes.  
Sam laughs out loud. "Seriously, how can you consume so much food and still look, you know, like you do?"  
"I kick ass", she answers smartly.  
That response might came out rapid, for a brief moment there Zoë analyzed that sentence. Was that a compliment or a flirt? She's not sure what to think, but presumes Sam didn't meant anything by it, considering he's still dealing with Jess. And come on, she has given him a pretty hard time, she's everything but charming.  
"How's it going over there?", Zoë changes the subject before a awkward silence follows.  
Sam glances through his windshield at the two individuals up at the house.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Mrs. Shire seems to deal with her husband's death by cleaning up the entire house and her son is out by the lake, just staring out over the water", Sam describes.  
"The guy was a son of a bitch, but he was still their family", Zoë realizes.  
Then a steady beep sounds in her ear; she has different line coming in.  
"Be right back, getting another call", she notifies Sam and pushes the green button on her phone.  
"Sullivan", she says.  
"Doc isn't talking".  
Dean walks down the stairs of the _Arkansas Methodist Medical Center_. He unbuttons his jacket and loosens his tie, then he takes out his sunglasses and puts them on.  
"What do you mean, he isn't talking?", Zoë wants to know.  
"He got all nervous when I started asking questions. There's no way I can get a word out of his mouth, but he knows somethin' alright", Dean explains.  
"Did you try everything?", she checks with a sigh.  
"I didn't tell him about the truth if that's what you mean", he admits.  
Zoë realizes it's a good thing he didn't. If Dean starts talking about killer ghosts and the guy freaks out, they might have a serious problem, considering that they identified to him as FBI. If the doctor goes running off to authorities, their attempt to solve this case will become difficult if not impossible when they have the police on their tail.  
"You have the death report, right?", she asks with a tone.  
"Yep", Dean ensures as he takes out the report from his inside pocket. "Stole it from his file case. Piece of cake".  
"Anything interesting in there?", she questions, not bothering to compliment him for his deed.  
"Not really", Dean presses his phone between his ear and shoulder and leafs through the pages which contain a lot of medical talk that he doesn't understand one bit.  
"It says that Laura Shire was brought in by her father round 11 PM, yada yada yada. Cause of death…", Dean pauses as he reads the line again and halts.  
"Didn't you say that both dear daddy and Van Dyke broke their neck?", he recalls, looking up from the file.  
"Yeah".

"Laura broke hers too. Judigtsteyn claimed she fell down the stairs", Dean adds up.  
"Yeah right", Zoë sighs deeply.  
"One other thing, or actually two", he points out as continues his way down the street. "Shire wasn't just a colleague, he was his chief. Guess who signed Laura's death report".  
He leaves the final words open for Zoë to fill in.  
"Shire _himself_?", she asks stunned.  
"The one and only", he confirms.  
"But he's a family member of the patient, he doesn't have the authorities in that case!", Zo cries out in disbelief.  
"That's why he got Judigtsteyn to do it. All they needed was his signature as the supervisor", Dean realizes.  
"Which makes the report valid", she gets the point.  
"So what now?", Dean questions, now that his job is done.  
"Judigtsteyn played a part in the big cover up, so he might be her next candidate", Zoë ponders, glancing at the Dawlson residence, where it's still quiet.  
"There is no way you can keep an eye on him in that hospital, is there?", she questions.  
"We don't need to. Laura only attacks when the victim if out of sight of others, right?", Dean mentions.  
Zoë thinks back to the first two murders. She didn't notice it before, but he's right. There were people in the house when Shire and Van Dyke were killed, but never in the same room.  
"Now that you mention it. As long as the doc stays among people, he'll be safe. When does he get off?", she wants to know.  
"Already checked that, not until 6 PM", he informs.  
"Good, so we don't have to worry about him till 6", she sighs, trying to think of a plan.  
"Everything cool over there?", Dean asks.  
"I'm wasting my time, I'm not sure if Laura will strike her anyhow", Zoë comments on the case.  
"And Sam?", Dean wonders, as he walks into the parking lot of the _Mc Donald's_ which is just blocks away from the hospital.

"Do I look like a mailman to you? Why don't you ask him yourself?", she huffs annoyed.  
"Never mind", he sighs, not feeling like arguing her and explaining what is going on.  
He enters the _Mc Donald's_ and takes a look at the menu. Tough choice, Big Mac or McBacon?  
"You had a fight or somethin'?", Zoë asks curious.  
"Sort of", Dean confirms, not really planning to open up to her.  
"Brotherly love. What did you fight about?", she asks again.  
"That's none of your business", Dean is tired of her interrogation and snipes. "Damn, you're not curious, are ya?"  
"No, I'm not curious, I just want to know everything", she responds smartly. "Come on, spill it".  
Dean sighs, he doesn't feel like telling her about it, but he figures that if she knows, she might shut up about it.  
"It was about Dad, we have different ideas about how to find him", Dean explains shortly.  
Surprisingly, there's no smart answer that follows up his words. Not a word. Zoë swallows back a mean comment and decides not to respond for their own good. They are finally having a conversation without yelling at each other and although she doesn't care if she's being barked at, she likes to keep it peaceful this time. Like it or not, she needs their help on this case.  
"Still there?", Dean asks to break the deadly silence.  
"Yeah, sorry. Got a bit distracted", Zoë makes up.  
"Want a burger?", he jokes, as if he could teleport it to her place.  
She laughs, guessing where he is.  
"Where are you, _Mc Donald's_ or something?", she grins.  
"What do you think?", he says to her and turns to the guy behind the counter. "One McBacon, please".  
"Just one?", Zoë comments.

"Absolutely right, make that two", the last sentence was directed to the guy behind the counter.  
He pays for his second lunch of the day and tells the Mc Donald's employee to keep the change.  
"Did you eat?", Dean asks Zoë as he walks out to the terrace and settles down in the sun.  
"Yeah, pizza", she mentions shortly.  
Then the subject reminds her of Sam, he's still waiting for her to return to their conversation.  
"Which reminds me, I still have Sam on hold. If you wanna crash some place, feel free to break into my motel room", she offers with a smile.  
"Alrighty, which number?", he likes to know before he stumbles into a stranger's apartment.  
"17, don't break anything".  
With those words she disconnects her call with Dean and returns to Sam.  
"I'm back", she lets him know.  
But there's not a sound on the other line. He didn't hang up on her, she can still here noises she doesn't recognize.  
"Sam? You there?", she asks stern.  
Then she hears Sam's voice, but it's not comforting. A painful moan sounds from the other side of the line.  
"Sam, answer me! What's going on?", Zoë senses something is wrong.  
"I'm here", Sam groans.  
He has the palm of his hand pressed against his forehead as he squints. He doesn't know what just happened to him, but it hurts like hell. He closes his eyes, but still sees images he can't place. Dreams are one thing, but he never experienced this before.  
"What's happening?"

He hears Zoë's voice and presses his Blackberry against his ear.  
"I think I just had a vision", he realizes, as the headache fades away.  
"It started", she states surprised. "What did you see?"  
Sam looks up. By the sound of her words, she experienced this too.  
"You had one of those during the day?", he asks stunned.  
"That's not important right now, Sam. What did you see?", she repeats her question.  
Sam thinks back as the images appear in her head again.  
"I saw a house, white woodwork", he remembers, closing his eyes.  
"A woman inside it terrified, screaming, and I heard a voice "You didn't stop it"", he quotes.  
Zoë eyes look up from her screen and stare at the house across the street. The Dawlson home has white woodwork. Her eyes widen as she realizes what might be going on.  
"It's Laura. What else did you see, Sam!", she pressures as she gets up hastily.  
"A guy mowing the lawn and… a church, right next to the house", he recalls, concentrating on special marks.  
Zoë's chair falls down on the ground and she runs down the terrace, leaving her Macbook behind on the table. As fast as she can she crosses the street and is barely missed by a car, but she doesn't care. Her eyes are fixated on the front door and she knows; Laura is here.  
"Get over here, NOW!", she orders Sam and while running she puts away her phone.  
Adrenaline rushes through her body as her hand grabs the doorknob, but the door seems to be jammed. She pulls as hard as she can, but there's no movement what so ever.  
"Hey! What do you think you are doing?", Jeff Dalwson cries out, who left his lawnmower on the grass and now approaches her with large steps.  
"Your wife's in danger! We need to get inside the house", she tells the man straight forward.  
The facial expression of the tall dark man changes from mad to worried and stares inside the house.

"Who are you?", he wants to know.  
"Jeff, there's no time to lose! I'll explain later!", Zoë cries out, trying to maintain calm.  
She puts her shoulder into in and tries to lift the door out of his hinge, but it won't budge. Frustrated she looks around for another way in. In the mean time Jeff hastens around the house, but comes back to the front panicking.  
"I can't get the back door to open!", he shouts.  
"Damn it!", she curses, now that she knows what's going on.  
Laura is doing this, she's shutting them out so that she can work her victim without being interrupted. It's amazing how fast this little ten year old developed into the monster she is right now. This isn't a ghost problem anymore, this is a hesitation, Zoë draws her gun from behind her waistband and aims for the kitchen window. She pulls the trigger, but instead of breaking the glass, the bullet flings back as if it just hit bullet proof glass.  
"Taylor!", Jeff calls his wife's name desperately.  
But they don't hear a sound, not even a horrific scream, absolutely nothing. Zoë, not willing to give up, hits the door with her shoulder again till she feels soar to the bone.  
"Son of a bitch! Let us in!", she yells furious.  
In the meantime Jeff got his hands on a shovel and hits the windows, but concrete would damage more than the glass does at this point. While he keeps screaming for his wife and daughter's name, Zoë hears the roar of the Impala racing around the corner. With screeching tires Sam stops the car and jumps out, rushing for the trunk. Without pausing Zoë speaks to him.  
"You better have a damn bright idea, Sam!", she shouts raged.  
With two loaded shotguns in his hands he runs up the lawn, but stops in his tracks when he glances at the window.  
"Uh… Zoë?", he calls for her perplexed.  
She looks over her shoulder and sees the staggered expression on his face. Slowly she backs out and glances up. In front of the window stands a young girl, which Zoë recognizes as Laura. This time she isn't the sad little innocent kid, she looks terrifying. Here eyes seem to have sunk in deep into there sockets, blood and bruises cover her body. Her head is tilted to the right in a strange unnatural way. Laura just stares down at them, then in a flick of a switch, she disappears. The next moment they hear the sound of shattered glass. Their attention is drawn to the kitchen window; Jeff managed to break it. Hastily Zoë rushes for the door, knowing it's off lock now and enters the house. Sam is on her tail and hands her the shotgun in the hallway, just in case.

"This isn't gonna help", she looks at the gun for a moment.  
"Loaded with rock salt", Sam explains.  
Her gaze glides over the gun again, this time an appreciating one. She heard of many ways to fight of ghosts, but this is a new one. A typical Winchester invention.  
"Smart", she comments. "You get the girl".  
They split up and when Sam glances into the living room, he sees Jeff's and Taylor's daughter. She doesn't seem to realize what is going on, apparently she didn't hear a thing. She's playing with her dolls, as her mother told her to. As Sam concentrates on Lesley, Zoë rushes to the second floor. Quickly she climbs the stairs, her gun ready to fire. Alert she scans the corridor; all clear. Knowing Laura might still be inside, she takes a deep breath and busts the door. What she sees inside, even makes her stomach turn. What she feared the most has happened, Laura made her teacher die a even more horrible death than her own. Taylor has collapsed against the wall, her eyes stare at the ground, as if she was unpleasantly surprised by her attacker. But she doesn't move, she doesn't flinch; she's as dead as she can be. Her arm and her neck seem to be broken, she also suffered bad head injury. Blood prints of her head and hands are smeared over the pink wall paper of her daughter's bedroom. The red substance stained the carpet, the teddy bears on Lesley's bed, the covers, even the ceiling.  
"God damn it, Laura", Zoë whispers and sighs deeply.  
Footsteps behind her on the stairs. She looks back and sees Jeff, running up the stairs.  
"You don't wanna see this", she warns, trying to keep him from the doorway.  
But as she would have done, he walks in anyway. As soon as his eye catches the sight of his wife in the state that she is, he freezes. Unable to say anything, he just looks down on at her dead body as tears well up in his eyes. Zoë watches him with compassion, but she can't get a word out of her mouth. After she swallows apprehensively she looks away.  
"Taylor…", Jeff whispers, as tears run down his face.  
In a blink of an eye his life changed forever and it will never be the same again. The woman he loves dearly, the mother of his child, was just ripped from life, murdered, and there is nothing he can do to change that. Zoë knows the feeling, she knows it way too well. He falls down on his knees in her blood, but he doesn't hit the floor, he hits rock bottom.


	9. Chapter 9

The black Harley Davidson rides onto the parking lot of the _Sunset Motel_, followed by the Chevrolet Impala that Sam is driving. Zoë hasn't said a word to him since she found Taylor at the Dawlson home. Both of them gave a statement to the local police, which felt strange, since Zoë had to keep pretending to be a fed, as she already identified herself to them like Agent Evans earlier that day. Luckily Sam improvised and said he was her partner. They both kept the cops in the dark, hoping they wouldn't be making their ghost hunting work more difficult then it already is. Sam also talked to Jeff Dawlson. The poor guy was a mess, but the widower made clear that he knows that this wasn't just some ordinary murder. No screaming, the windows which didn't break, the door that didn't open and suddenly they all did as if a button was pushed. Even for a skeptic down to earth guy like Jeff, this was obviously not from their world. So Sam told him, everything about Laura, all that they know. Jeff took it quite well, even thanked them for their attempt to save his wife, but he was devastated, never to be the same. Without speaking Zoë gets off her bike, takes her laptop case out of the saddlebag and strolls to the entrance, followed by Sam. He watches her as she makes her way to room 17; she's quiet, but keeps a straight face. People passing by don't notice anything about Zo, but Sam somehow knows this is messing with her head. She slips the room key in the lock and opens the door. As she expected, Dean is obviously present. A _McDonald's_ bag and several paper wraps are spread out over the floor and loud music is playing from the radio. Dean who is probably freshing up in the bathroom, apparently didn't hear them come in, because he keeps singing along with the song.  
"… _There's a lot of people sayin' we'd be better off dead. Don't feel like Satan, but I am to them. So I try to forget it, any way I can. Keep on rockin' in the free world!", _he sings loudly.  
His younger brother halts and raises his eyebrow. Finding Dean inside Zoë's apartment is one thing, but this would be so amusing if the circumstances wouldn't make it awkward. Zoë isn't in for the fun either and she slams on the bathroom door.  
"Hey Neil Young, shut your pinhole, will ya", she comments without the slightest laugh.  
They hear a glass breaking on the bathroom floor and Zoë rolls her eyes while sighing deeply.  
"Crap", Dean curses softly, then sets up a voice loud enough for Zoë to hear it. "Sorry!"

Without responding she walks away from the door and turns down the volume of the radio completely, leaving them all in a deadly silence. As Sam picks up the wraps from the floor, Dean pops his head around the corner.  
"What the hell are you doing here?", he asks them both, when he notices his brother by the door.  
"I could ask you the same thing", Sam returns.  
"I let him break in", Zoë says before Dean can answer.  
"Didn't expect you two to be back anytime soon", he comments, walking out of the bathroom while buttoning his white shirt.  
"Something occurred at the Dawlsons", Sam responds shortly, looking away.  
His elder brother halts and looks from Sam to Zoë, who sits down on the bed and just stares at nothing, not looking particularly happy. Zoë can feel his unspoken question and decides to answer.  
"She's dead".  
Dean expected something like that when he felt the mood they're both in, but it still comes as a shock. All he can do is stare at her.  
"Dead as in hit-by-a-car-dead or killed-by-a-ghost-dead?", he asks carefully.  
She doesn't answer, words aren't necessary. When she glares into his eyes, he knows enough. He sighs deeply and looks away, shaking his head; well, this is unfortunate. A depressing silence fills the motel room.  
"How did you find out?", Dean asks seriously.  
"I had a vision", Sam explains from their behalf.  
Both Zoë and Dean look up at him, a bit stunned by his statement. Zoë isn't surprised that Sam had one, she knew that of course. What she didn't knew was that Sam told his brother about his ability, which she presumes as he just blurred it out like that.  
"You fell asleep or somethin'?", Dean questions with the knowledge that Sam only sees these strange things during the night in the form of nightmares.

"No, this was the first time he had one like that", Zoë answers before Sam does.  
Now Dean turns towards her, surprised to hear that she's all up to date with Sam's special abilities. Disbelieving, he glares at his brother.  
"You told her?", he cries out.  
"Yeah, so? What's the big deal?", Sam returns defensive.  
"You wanna know what the big deal is? If this gets public amongst hunters, some of them might seriously keep an eye on you, Sam!", he snipes.  
"It's safe with me, Dean", Zoë tries to cool it.  
"That's not what this is about", he turns his back at his younger brother. "He doesn't realizes how dangerous this could be".  
"Don't talk like I'm not even here, Dean", Sam huffs irritated.  
Zoë's not sure where it's coming from, but she has the sudden urge to defend Sam. Dean is the one in this room who's in the dark about this, not them.  
"Like you have a clue what's going on", she jumps in to protect the youngest. "I think hunters are the last ones on earth you should worry about".  
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?", Dean wants to know.  
"Haven't you wondered where this is coming from?", she looks up at him, waiting for an answer.  
Silence. It might not have yet occurred to Dean though, but Sam and Zoë have thought of it constantly. People, normal random people, shouldn't be having visions about the future or the past. It's not normal, it's not human. Dean however, decides to ignore her notification and points his finger at his younger brother in the way a father would do to his son.  
"You shut up about this", he warns. "If you wanna talk about it, talk to me".

"Don't treat me like you're Dad!", Sam snipes.  
Zoë rolls her eyes as soon as the guy is mentioned. She turns to the window with her hands in her side.  
"_I_ am responsible for you and _I_ am the one who needs to drag you out of trouble when you have God knows what on your tail because of this freaky stuff. As long as Dad isn't around, I am gonna talk to you like that, get use to it", Dean returns stern.  
Sam huffs and grinds his teeth. He hates, absolutely _HATES_ it when he's treated like a child. It doesn't matter if he's talked to like this by Dad or Dean, he can't stand it.  
"I'm not gonna listen to you", Sam laughs cynically.  
"Yes, you are!", Dean raises his voice.  
"No, I'm not!", Sam dares to overrule him.  
"Would you two SHUT THE HELL UP?"  
Both the boys stop in their tracks and look at Zo, who got up from the bed. Furious she glares at them, slowly her penetrating eyes move from one to the other, disgusted by their behavior.  
"How old are you? Twelve?", she asks mad. "People are dying and you two are actually arguing over who's boss and who's not?"  
Sam gulps, she has a point. This is completely senseless, because both Dean and Sam know that neither of them is gonna give up this argument. Even Dean seems to be ashamed a little as he looks down at the floor.  
"I'm gonna be honest with you two. If you don't get along, that's your problem, but you're no good to me when you don't function together", she continues, a bit calmer now. "An innocent just died, God damn it".  
The uncomfortable silence returns once again as Zoë turns her back on them and paces through the room. Sam and Dean exchange a look; this is really bothering her. Dean makes a careful attempt to find out what's really going on with Zoë.

"What's wrong, Zo?", he asks gently.  
Instead of answering, she just shakes her head, telling him she doesn't wanna talk. Slowly she settles down on the bed again and avoids their eyes, folding her hands together and resting her elbows on her knees. For a long while she doesn't speak, but then she starts to open up, just a little bit.  
"I was suppose to watch her", she states. "Yet I was goofing around and bored, while she got murdered".  
"This isn't your fault", Sam says immediately.  
"It is", her piercing gaze looks into his eyes. "I should have known how Laura operates, I should have drawn that conclusion from the first two killings, but I didn't".  
"Hey, we didn't see this coming either", Dean brings to mind.  
"It doesn't matter. Someone died again while I could've prevented it", she states frustrated.  
Sam glances aside at his brother confused. _Again?_ What does she mean by that? With a questioning look upon his face he looks over at Dean and is surprised by what he sees. Compassion, compassion for Zoë. He realizes Dean might know more about he past, as they hung out together for a few weeks many years ago. Dean never actually gave him the details about the case and he didn't think of it appropriate to ask.  
"Zo, what happened back then was out of your hands", Dean tries to bring to her.  
"Don't go there", she looks away.  
"You shouldn't still be blaming yourself for that, nor should you feel guilty about today", he lectures.  
"I said: don't go there", Zoë says firmly.  
Her eyes warn him as they glare at Dean, but the eldest of the Winchester brothers isn't spooked by it. Sam, a bit disorientated, just looks from one to the other, not following the conversation, while Dean thinks of another way to get through to Zoë.

"Maybe you should step out of the case", he suggests.  
"What?", she cries out perplexed.  
"It's obvious that you're emotionally involved, Zo. Maybe you should us take care of this one", he explains.  
He might say so, but Dean doesn't want her to quit on them. This might just trigger her to talk. They watch how she starts to boil, he really pissed her off now.  
"Are you insane? I don't quit on cases, I don't take the easy way out!", she yells.  
"Then tell me what the hell is bothering you!", he shouts back.  
"No!", Zoë shouts outrageous, as if she's unable to control her voice. "I don't want to talk about it!"  
"It's been almost five years, Zoë. It's about time you talk about it. This isn't healthy", Dean pressures.  
"I just can't, okay?"  
Her voice is suddenly softer now, almost if she begs him to stop. She doesn't look at the boys, but Sam can see her eyes glister. Slowly he starts to get the idea what happened back then and gives it a try to make her feel better.  
"Zoë, if this has something to do with that Diligo Vesco demon", he carefully starts off. "Whatever happened, it wasn't you".  
"My hands", she holds them up in front of her. "... and his blood all over them. Now don't you tell me it wasn't me".  
Confused Sam looks from Zoë to Dean, he's not sure what she's talking about. She spots his confused expression and turns to Dean.  
"You didn't tell him?", she asks him.  
"I didn't, I wasn't sure if you were okay with that", he states calm.  
She takes a deep breath and prepares to say the words that bring up so much pain. Then she looks up at Sam and swallows back the tears. She can't break, she never did and she won't now. With trembling voice, she speaks up.  
"When I was possessed, I killed my father".

Sam jaw almost drops, now that's something new. Slowly his image of Zoë changes. Poor girl, losing a parent is one thing, but experiencing their murder like you're the one killing, you don't get over that. Both boys watch her struggle, both know there's nothing they can do to make her feel better. She walks over to the window and rubs her face. Dean can't see the tear run down her cheek, but somehow he knows she turned away to prevent they see her cry. She can't show her weakness, not to them, not to anyone. Dean notices something about her that he recognizes in himself. She's unable to express how she feels, it just hurts too much. It's easier to stuff it away and pile it up, hoping not to have to deal with it, that the pain slowly fades away. But it doesn't and it never will. Zoë sighs deeply and mans herself, then she takes heart and turns back to them.  
"We shouldn't be talking about me, guys. Our ghost is getting more violent by the hour, we need to stop this", she reminds them.  
Sam glances at his brother, their eyes meet. He knows she's avoiding the subject, but she has a point. Laura might be killing someone right now and he had to leave the Shire residence unattended. Both boys decide to give it a rest.  
"You're right, let's focus here", Dean agrees. "I'm gonna get the doctor to talk, I won't take no for an answer".  
He grabs his tie from the chair and folds it around his collar as he looks up at Sam, awaiting a follow up from his younger brother.  
"I'll check on the Shires and update you about the situation there", Sam suggests.  
"Sound good to me. Talk to them too, fire it up a little. Maybe they know more about this possible blackmail stuff. We need information to wrap this one up and we need it fast", she checks her watch and is startled to see that it's almost five o' clock.  
"Take the car, I'll walk, it's just a block away", Dean nods at the car keys on the drawer, while struggling with his tie.  
"Come here", Zoë gestures him to come close and takes Dean's tie in her hands.  
Skillfully she redoes his tie, her hands move quick and it seems like she has done this often. Dean looks at her face. Her make-up has run down a little, it emphasizes her frame of mind.

"Shall I tell them the truth?", Sam proposes.  
"Not yet", she tightens Dean's tie and looks up at him. "You try to get to the doc first. We're sure he actually knows something, but that isn't certain about the Shire family. We don't want to spook them".  
"Okay, let's go then", Dean picks up his jacket and heads for the door.  
"What are you gonna do?", Sam wonders as he halts in the doorway.  
"I'm gonna try to get some info on what kind of girl Laura was and who she was close to. Maybe I can find a lead on her next victim", she explains.  
"We'll get her, Zo", Dean ensures.  
"Hell, we will. Taylor was the last one killed by Laura Shire", she states powerful.  
Just after she pronounces those words, the door slams and locks. Surprised Zoë stares at the doorknob, which felt like it was just ripped from her hand. As she slowly turns around, she feels chills running down her spine as the bathroom light starts to flicker. Suddenly the radio flips on, but all she hears is noise as the tuner scrolls through different stations. She breaths out clouds of warm air and it gets ice cold in the room.  
"Oh… crap…", she swallows apprehensively.  
Seems like she doesn't have to search very long to find Laura's next victim; she's here. Getting a little nervous, she searches the room for something iron, as it is the only pure tin that can fight off ghosts. Suddenly the image of the ten year old girl appears in the corner. Her blonde hair looks blackened, her eyes are dead, but still penetrate hers. The nightgown she was wearing the night she got killed is stained with blood. She makes one thing clear without saying a word; she's pissed. She flickers in and out and suddenly stands right before her. Startled Zoë stares at her for a moment. She has no weapon, no defense; she's screwed. Even though she realize the boys can't hear her, she cries out one of their names at the top of her lungs.  
"SAM!"


	10. Chapter 10

A bit stunned, Sam stares at the door of room 17. Dean already walks down the hallway with his jacket hanging over his shoulder. He doesn't hear his brother's footsteps and turns around.  
"Coming or what?", he comments.  
Sam's places his hand on the door. He feels like something is off here and glances at Dean.  
"The door just slammed in my face", he notifies.  
"What did you expect? It's Zoë", Dean says, being smart.  
"I'm not sure", he hesitates as he pounds on the door. "Zoë?"  
But Zoë doesn't hear him. She seems isolated, as if she's in a room made out of sound proof walls. In front of her she sees the disturbing image of Laura. She stares up from under her eyebrows, her soaked through hair drips water on the ground. Her neck is broken and strangely tilted to the right. Slowly Zoë backs out.  
"You don't want to do that, Laura", Zoë warns carefully.  
"Or what? You will kill me?", she says clever.  
_Little smartass_, Zoë can't help to think. She is the one who needs to start with the smart talk. This might be her only way out of this, although at this moment her future looks darker than it already seemed. She needs to get under her skin, how gross that might sound at this point.  
"Why are you doing this?", she asks calmly.  
"They didn't stop it", Laura says. "They all knew, but they didn't stop it".  
"What are you haunting me for then?", Zoë questions.

Carefully she glances aside at her backpack on the drawer. She knows it contains a bag of salt, which is awfully handy when it comes to ghost. The one thing ghost can't stand is salt. They can't pass it, they can't touch it, nor can demons. She could use a Winchester shotgun right now, that rock salt idea is a pretty damn good idea.  
"I'm haunting you, because you are trying to stop _me_. You didn't want me to kill Mrs. Dawlson", she says, as if it's a good argument.  
Zoë backs out further until she feels the drawer against her spine. While talking, one hand tries to find the bag of salt in the backpack.  
"Mrs. Dawlson was a good person, with a family. Now I know how you feel about the guy who did this to you…"  
"Yes you do, don't you, Miss Sullivan?", she turns her head in an abnormal angle for a moment and the bones in her neck crack. "You know hate, anger, helplessness. That's why you became what you are".  
Startled Zoë stares at the little ghost. How does she know all this? Is she playing mind games here? It's scary how she stays so well mannered and Zoë has trouble looking her in the eye. She knows everything about her. Quickly Zoë recovers.  
"I know what your father did to you was cruel and unexplainable, but this isn't you, Laura. You need to let go", Zoë tells her.  
"I can't. You should be the one who understands me best. Some one did this to you, Miss Sullivan. It didn't just happen, harm was done to you. Don't you want to kill him?", Laura pressures.  
"Oh I do, but grown ups realize what consequences that has for everyone else involved", Zoë responds rapid.  
In a blink of an eye she throws a hand of salt at her face, which causes her to scream and flicker on and off as the lights in the bathroom. As quickly as Zoë can, she rushes for the window which is closest by and straws salt in the window cill. She know it's impossible to bust open the window or even the door as Laura's power remains intact as long as she has what she wants, so she has to make a portal first. Sam and Dean better find a way to her, it's the only hope she's got. Out of nowhere, the bag is ripped from her hand and drops on the floor. She turns around and sees Laura coming back at her very quickly, as if she was seeing a video being fast forwarded. Right in front of her nose, she stops and stares up at her angrily.

"That wasn't very nice", she shakes her head while saying it, crunching her spinal cord.  
Suddenly Zoë feels herself being lifted of the ground, she's as light as a feather. Not that it's so delightful though, because a second later, she smashes into the wall on the other side of the room.  
"That made me upset", Laura notifies with a scary gaze.  
Zoë struggles up, but before she can make an attempt to flee, Laura again makes a sideways gesture with her arm, which makes Zoë fly through the air and hit the opposite wall. With a loud bang she lands on the drawer which breaks through one leg, causing her to glide of and fall down on the floor. Dizzy she recovers as she feels blood dripping down her cheek, coming from an ugly cut in her head. As soon as the black spots disappear from her vision she glances back up at the disturbed young girl. She points her little finger at her, as Zoë starts to feel a increasing pain in her chest.  
"Now I'm going to kill you, nice and slow. Just like Daddy did", Laura flashes in front of her.  
Frightened she stares straight into the dead eyes of the girl. Every possible idea she had so far was stupid and she has no material to defend herself with. She tries to back out further, but fortunately, or unfortunately, she can't move through walls just yet. She decides to do one last desperate attempt to get out of this situation and closes her eyes. In a split second, she pictures Sam Winchester and concentrates. Then she cries out his name.  
"SAM!"  
"Did you hear that?", Sam asks his brother nervously on the other side of the door.  
Dean walks up to him and listens carefully.  
"Hear what?", he asks when he doesn't hear a sound.  
"SAM! Get me out!"  
"There, you heard that, right?", stunned he stares at the door, then he hits it with his shoulder. "ZOË!"  
"Sam, I didn't hear anything. Did you eat mushrooms for lunch or somethin'?", Dean questions confused.  
"Dean, you have to trust me! Laura is in there!", Sam ensures.

Without pausing his younger brother tries to bust the door with a kick, but it's stuck. For a split second Dean watches his brother. He's not kidding, she _is_ in there.  
"What is going on here!", a member of staff cries out from the end of the hallway.  
"Call 911, now!", Dean turns to him and starts running down the corridor.  
"Where are you going?", Sam asks out of breath.  
"I'm gonna try from the outside, keep going!", Dean commands before he rushes around the corner.  
As fast as he can back to the front of the _Sunset Motel_, counting the windows as he goes passed them. Before the window of room 17 he halts and holds his gun up, ready to fire. Inside a child ghost has her hands round Zoë's neck and forces her all the way up to the ceiling. Slowly Laura tilts her head and looks Dean in the eye, then he releases the rock salt bullet. It's a impulsive act and Dean doesn't expect the bullet to get through the glass, but it shatters anyway and flies right through her head. As sudden as she came, she disappears into thin air. Zoë collapses down the wall as Sam busts in right at the same time. He stares at his brother through the window for a second and then sees Zoë on the floor.  
"Zo!", he rushes to her and kneels down next to her.  
Carefully he holds her head with both hands and taps her in the face, after which she slowly comes to. He sighs relieved when she opens her eyes. A groan escapes from her lips and she squints as the pain comes to her. She leans against the wall, out of breath and clearly in pain. Blood is running down her neck from a wound on her head, her nose is also bleeding. Several scratches are spread out over her arms and face, she's a mess. She clamps her hand in her side and takes a careful breath, which obviously hurts her.  
"Hey, take it easy", Sam puts his hand on her shoulder as she rest her head against the wall.  
"I think I cracked some ribs", Zoë moans.

"What else hurts?", Sam carefully sweeps way her dark hair to reveal the bleeding cut underneath.  
"What doesn't", she comments, as she closes her eyes for a second.  
"That bitch", she curses.  
"You'll be alright, I see".  
Zoë looks up and sees Dean standing in the doorway; he walked back in from the front in the mean time. She huffs, and tries to find support against the back wall; she doesn't feel so good.  
"As always", she responds sarcastically.  
Very carefully she feels her nose, from which blood still drips down over her lips and down her chin.  
"Broke it?", Dean checks.  
"Yeah", she sighs. "I swear, if she kills me, I'll haunt her sorry little ass".  
Dean smiles about that comment and looks away, but Sam isn't set at ease yet.  
"Where's that ambulance?", he asks his brother.  
"Ambulance?", Zoë repeats annoyed.  
"Yeah, you know. One of those minivan thingies who haste sick people to a hospital", Dean nags.  
Zoë glares at him and then turns back at Sam.  
"I don't need no ambulance", she mumbles.  
"Nope, you're absolutely fine. You don't need our help either", Dean rubs inwith a sarcastic tone.  
"Shut up", Zoë cuts off.

He turns away smiling and slowly moves away from the doorway, as the sirens of the help enforcements cry in the distance. As soon as he's out of sight, Sam looks deep down her eyes.  
"I heard you", he whispers.  
"I figured", Zoë responds smartly.  
"No, I mean", he pauses and glares over his shoulder to make sure Dean is really gone. "I heard you in my head. How the hell did you do that?"  
His facial expressions are serious, Zoë knows he's not messing around. Why she did it? She doesn't really know, instinct perhaps. It was her last option to connect with anyone outside this room. How she did it? That's an even bigger question.  
"I dunno, I just…", she presses her palm against her forehead, this headache is killing her.  
"That bad, huh?", Sam sees she's hurting.  
"Dude, I feel like a dodge ball", she pulls back her hand and is unpleasantly surprised by the blood on her hands.  
But Sam keeps worrying, she can see it. Not just about her, but about this telepathic intermezzo they had just a few minutes ago.  
"It's probably nothing, Sam. We're both sensitive for this psychic stuff. It's no big deal", she tries to comfort.  
But Sam can't be sure, his worries don't warn off. Not that he can think of it long though, because a moment later, paramedics rush in.


	11. Chapter 11

Some time later, Zoë is uncomfortably sitting in the back of the ambulance. The police has also arrived; several cars are parked on the sidewalk and police officers, even forensics are examinating the crime scene for evidence, which of course, they will never find. The paramedics took care of her head wound and several other injuries she suffered. Her face feels like Mohammed Ali himself threw a few punches at her and to top it all, officer Devoir is standing right in front of her for the third time this day.  
"Are you sure you didn't see anything?", Devoir checks after he wrote something down in his notebook.  
"A hundred percent. It attacked me from behind and knocked me unconscious", she lies without flinching.  
"It?", the officer looks up at her, a bit indignant by her choice of words.  
"You know, he, she, whatever", Zoë mumbles looking away.  
Devoir watches her for a moment and puts away his notebook.  
"Off the record", he starts. "Do we need to put a lot of effort in this case or can I tell my sheriff that the FBI is taking over?"  
A little surprised by the sudden question she looks back up into his eyes, then she chuckles. He has a point, right now they are busy questioning each other instead of actually solving the case. They are working on the same terrain here and neither of them is helped by that matter.  
"I'll spare you some trouble. We'll take over", Zoë states.  
He nods as a sign of agreement, realizing that this is probably for the best. They have no clue what so ever about this case and every lead they've got, runs directly at a dead end. Maybe the FBI has more experience with abnormal cases like this one.

"I hope you'll catch our killer, this town can't effort more crimes like these", the officer sighs.  
"Neither can I", Zoë comments with a sigh as she wipes some blood from her chin.  
"Good luck", he wishes her. "We'll keep in touch".  
Zo watches him head back for his car as he gestures his partner Turner to follow him, who was asking Dean some questions. After all, he did demolish a motel room window with a shotgun, but it seems like he's getting some slack. Good for him, because even though she doesn't like the idea, he did save her ass. The eldest of the Winchester boys remains standing on the sidewalk. He takes a moment as he looks around. The PPD starts to gather their stuff and the first police car leaves the scene. Sam is in the room, looking for some leads. Then he spots Zoë inside the ambulance and walks over.  
"Hate those damn interrogations", he grumbles as he leans against the left door of the van.  
"Right there with ya, but they won't bother us anymore", she states.  
"Good riddance", he comments as he watches the cars leave.  
Then he turns to Zoë, observing her for a moment.  
"How do you feel?", he asks.  
"I got my ass kicked by a ten year old, how do you think I feel?", she bounces back.  
Dean nods agreeing with a smile.  
"At least you didn't get killed", he comments.  
"True enough", Zoë agrees and a silence follows.

She looks sideways at the young guy, who at this point is watching Sam through the broken window. Zoë isn't the person who apologizes, but she does realize that his quick reaction saved her life. Strangely enough, that never happened to her before. She never needed to be saved, she was always able to take care of herself. Well, sort of…  
"Hey Dean…", she starts of hesitating.  
He turns back to her, waiting for what she was about to say.  
"I just wanna say, well…", she speaks with difficulty. "You kinda saved my ass out there, so…"  
"Don't mention it", he responds before she finishes her sentence.  
Dean watches her and grins as she looks down. Seems like she might start to realize that she can't always make it on her own. Yet he saves her from the confronting words, he knows it's difficult to say them out loud. Besides, she's having a hard time as it is. Again she puts her arm around her side and closes her eyes for a moment.  
"Sure you can hunt like this?", Dean tries to make eye contact.  
"Of course I can! I had worse", she snipes fierce.  
"Just askin'", Dean shows his hands in innocence.  
At that moment Sam walks up to them, hopefully with some new information. His identification hangs from his neck, so that the police still left on the scene know who he pretends to be without asking.  
"Smart move, Zo", he compliments, crumbling salt between his finger and thumb.  
"Where did you find that?", Dean asks curious.  
"In the cill. I salted the window in order for you to get in", Zoë explains before Sam can.  
"I was wondering how that slug got through", the eldest thinks out loud.

"What did you find?", Zoë turns to Sam and looks up at him.  
"Not much", he tells. "Same situation as the other three incidents, only you survived".  
"Did she say anything?", Dean wonders.  
Laura did say something, something Zoë won't forget any time soon. Ghosts have the ability to see right through people, to know what they are really about. The deepest secrets aren't safe when the afterlife sets in. It scares her that Laura knows about her, about the demon, about John.  
"She mentioned something", she brings up, leaving the personal stuff out. "She kept saying 'they didn't stop it' and talked about hate and blame and all that stuff".  
"I heard her say that too", Sam admits.  
"In your vision?", Dean checks.  
Sam confirms with a nod and turns back to Zoë.  
"Anything else you saw?", Sam questions.  
She looks away while she starts to ponder, what else could be relative? By replaying the moment in her head, she tries to remember anything particular.  
"Her hair was wet", she recalls with closed eyes. "Water was dripping on the floor. She was wet through".  
Both boys think that through as Dean rubs his chin.  
"Now that doesn't make any sense", Dean comments. "You see ghosts appear wet through when they drowned or something, not when they got killed by abuse. Water had nothing to do with her death, she broke her neck".  
"Great, another clue of which we have no idea of what the hell it means", Zoë sighs.  
"Maybe we do…", Sam stares at nothing, apparently an idea starts to evolve in his head. "Laura broke her neck, did you actually saw a fracture on her ghost?"  
"Yeah, and believe me, it wasn't pretty", Zoë gags while thinking of the exposed fracture.

"Zoë, the body you burned didn't have a broken neck", Sam recalls.  
Stunned Zoë stares into his eyes and goes back to that night at the Linwood Cemetery. Sam is right, the spinal cord of the body in the coffin was intact. No scars, no nothing. She rolls her eyes as she realizes what is going on; she burned the wrong body!  
"I'll be damned", she huffs.  
"Sure you didn't start digging at the wrong tombstone?", Dean checks smartly.  
"I can read", she glares at him.  
She doesn't doubt herself for one second, she's sure she dug up the girl who was in Laura Shire's grave.  
"Someone switched bodies", Zoë concludes.  
"Why? Why would Shire do that? He had a false death report", Dean brings to mind.  
"Maybe he got scared. People knew and he was probably aware of that. Suppose that this came out in the open, police would have started digging. They would have found out", she figures.  
"He wanted to secure his alibi and traded Laura's remains for someone else's", Sam fills in.  
"That's all mighty fine, but where the hell is Laura then?", Dean asks out loud.  
Zoë sighs, that's a damn good question. As she looks away, sirens sound in the distance, but she doesn't immediately notice them.  
"Dr. Judigtsteyn is probably into it, why don't we have a little chat with him", Sam suggests.  
Before Zoë and Dean can agree on that, one of the two paramedics interrupts. They all shut up instantly, not wanting to talk about the supernatural when normal people are around.

"Mrs. Evans. I'm afraid we have to take you to the _St. Bernards Medical Center_ in Jonesboro", he tells her.  
"What? Why? The _AMMC _is right around the corner?", Sam jumps in before Zoë refuses to go to any hospital at all.  
"The ER has been closed down, Sir", the paramedic answers politely.  
"For what?", Dean likes to know.  
Then two police cars rush by. A bit startled Zoë glances around the van to see what's going on, as another car following stops. She's surprised to see that Officer Devoir rolls down his window.  
"Federal agents", he greets them with a nod. "We have another one at the _Medical Center_".  
Their eyes widen and Zoë's jaw drops. Another one? How did that happen so fast? Dean is the first to recover from the unexpected news.  
"We'll be right there", he states.  
Devoir rolls up his window and exhilarates. Sirens scream through the street as they drive down the road. All three of them watch them take off, still a little flabbergasted. They don't need a name, they already know who Laura killed.  
"Judigtsteyn", Dean knows.  
"Yep", Zoë sighs and gets on her feet.  
"Mrs. Evans", the paramedic objects.  
"I don't need to go to hospital. I'm fine, thank you", Zoë ensures.

"We'll take care of her", Dean backs her up.  
Sam gives him an unpleasantly surprised glare, how could he agree with that? She almost got killed by a ghost, broke several bones and now she doesn't even want to be checked out?  
"I'm sure, thank you for your help", Zoë insists fierce but polite.  
She shuffles to the parking lot of the _Sunset Motel_and gets support from Dean when he detects she's still feels dizzy.  
"You're nuts, you know that?", Sam whispers as he walks next to them.  
"Yep, completely aware", she answers cynical.  
Dean grins by her smart comment.  
"You're not alright, Zo", Sam states.  
"You're talking like I'm half way dead!", she cries out.  
"Well you came pretty damn close!", he snipes.  
"Hey dude, chill. I know you're worried about your little girlfriend here, but she has to stay with us", Dean brings to mind as they reach his Chevy.  
"I'm not little and I'm not his girlfriend", Zoë turns to him insulted.  
Before he can respond, Sam also objects.  
"Why does she have to stay with us?", he questions.

"Because if she doesn't, she'll be alone and Laura will attack her again. We're not leaving her out of sight", Dean decides.  
He opens the door to the back seat of his precious Impala and makes a gesture to Zoë.  
"Get in", he orders.  
"What, in _that_?", Zoë chuckles as she glares at Dean's baby inferiorly. "No thanks, I'll take the Dave".  
"You're not getting on a bike", Dean makes clear as she intends to head over to her black road runner, irritated by her tone.  
"It's not a bike, it's a Harley Davidson Road King", she corrects annoyed. "If I ride, I ride my Dave, no way you'll get me in that car".  
"It's not a car, it's a Chevrolet Impala '67!", he bounces back insulted.  
Zoë pretends that he's not even there and walks on, while Sam laughs silently as Dean grinds his teeth and watches her.  
"Wipe that smile off your face and get in", the eldest orders.  
Sam doesn't stop smiling, but he does get into the oldtimer as Dean settles in the drivers seat. Frustrated Dean starts the engine and roughly drives up to Zoë, then he brings it to a stop between her and her motorcycle. By this time he has already rolled down his window and now stares up into Zoë's dark eyes.  
"You know just as well as I that you are not capable of riding your precious shiny suicide bike. Now quit being so damn stubborn and get in the damn car!", he commands.  
She stares into his eyes as their gazes seem to battle; who's gonna look away first? This time it's Zoë, who lets out a sigh. Of course she knows it's not gonna be an easy ride and sitting in the back of a car seems far more responsible than driving down herself, bike or car. But it's admitting to Dean that she hates. Her hand grabs the door-latch, but she's not willing to give in without a little fight."I thought you said it wasn't a car", she recalls smartly as she sits down in the back seat.  
Dean rolls his eyes, ignores her comment and puts his hand on the wheel. As she slams the door, he accelerates. As he leaves the parking lot of the Sunset Motel, he realizes how badly he wants this case to be over. Because right now, he could break her little neck himself.


	12. Chapter 12

"Dead as a dodo", the eldest of the Winchester brothers states as he gets into his car.  
"Damn it!", Zoë curses from the back seat.  
Dean parked his Impala in front of the ER of the _Arkansas Methodist Medical Center_, between the several police cars from which rotating lights shimmer blue and red on their surroundings. He slams his door with frustration, apparently this bugs him just as much. The Kinks are playing You Really Got Me on the local radio station, which gives off an awkward happy vibe. No one bothers to turn it off though.  
"Laura attacked him while other people were around?", Sam presumes surprised.  
"She didn't actually, she waited till he went to the supply storage… alone", Dean tells. "Same deal, beat up, broken neck, the whole shebang".  
"Seems like we're not having a little chat with him after all", Zoë comments disturbed.  
"Okay, we have to act fast now", Sam cuts to the chase. "The only ones who might know something about Laura's location is what's left of the Shire family".  
"Better step to it then", Zoë says as she looks over at Dean.  
"I'm on it", he starts the engine and backs out, glaring over his shoulder to make sure he doesn't run into anything.  
"Hit me, GPS", he glances at his brother as he turns drives his baby back to S 9th Street.  
Sam need a moment to orientate himself as he checks the road signs, but still answers pretty rapid.  
"Highway 412 up west, right to Reynolds Road and then take left on Reynolds Park Road", he remembers from his previous visit to the Shire residence.  
As soon as Dean gets the queue he puts the peddle to the metal, rotating the wheel to the left in order to make the turn. Rubber burns off the tires as they slip, causing the rear end of the Impala to swing out.  
"Damn it, Dean! I'm nauseous already", Zoë comments, trying to prevent herself from rolling to the other side of the car.  
"Woos", he huffs softly as he pulls the car out of the turn and gasses it up on the highway ahead.

But Dean's rush isn't necessary, because between _Linwood Cemetery_ and Zoë's motel, they are forced to stop by a red light and a line of cars. Dean curses as the cars on Linwood Drive pull up and cross over.  
"Come on!", he cries out frustrated.  
"If I only had a bike…", Zoë comments joyfully, knowing that with her Dave she could have passed this little jam.  
She leans back in the seat and looks straight into Dean's eyes, who glare at her from his backmirror. After what seems to be an hour, the cars in front of him slowly drive off as the light switches from orange to green. As soon as the opportunity is there, Dean accelerates and passes the cars with high speed.  
"We must be missing something here", Sam claims, not being able to let it go of the big question of this case. "Where is Laura?"  
"Right now it doesn't matter where Laura is, it matters what her spirit is gonna do next. For as far as I can see, her next target is gonna be her own family. One of us has to protect them", Dean comments on the case.  
"We all have to protect them in order to protect ourselves", Sam brings to mind, which is followed by a moment of silence.  
"Say what?", Dean glares at his brother, not understanding his point.  
"He's right", Zoë realizes, resting her arms on the back of the boys' seat. "Laura kills everyone who stops her, but only if they are alone. If we split up, Dean and I will die".  
"Well that's a comforting thought", Dean sighs.  
"You don't think she'll kill me?", Sam wonders.  
"I don't think so. She made clear she wants me on her death list and now that Dean put a bullet through her head, she probably wants to waist him too. You, on the other hand, never actually had contact with her", Zoë explains.  
"Why am I always the one with a price on the head?", Dean complains as he turns right on Reynolds Road.  
"We're almost there", Sam informs, looking down the street.

"So basically, I'm stuck with her?", Dean checks with his brother, hinting at the young woman in the back seat.  
"Hey, I'm still in the car", Zoë crosses her arms in front of her chest after which she corrects herself smartly with a whining tone. "Excuse my French. Hey, I'm still in the Chevrolet Impala".  
Dean rolls his eyes. Of course she has to return that ball at him. He swallows back a response, he knows he will only make it worse. Zoë is unstoppable when it comes to arguments, even when she's slightly slowed down by a violent ghost.  
"He has a point", Sam intervenes before the arguments starts either way. "Whatever happens, you two have to stick together, or it will be the end of you. The second one of you ends up alone, you're dead".  
Sam's penetrating eyes look from one to the other. He made himself clear, but neither of them are happy about it.  
"Great, sounds like this is my lucky day", Zoë comments sarcastically after which she looks away and watches the houses rush by.  
"Could you two stop bitching at each other for one second?"  
Dean looks aside at his brother with his eyebrows raised, sounds like the youngest of the Winchesters had enough of the mocking and fighting. His little break out helps, because both shut up instantly.  
"Thank you", Sam sighs and continues on his theory. "We can't split up, so we have to locate Laura with the information we already have. What do we know?"  
"She was wet through, that has to mean something", Zoë contemplates.  
"That's just weird, we know she didn't drown", Dean muses as he turns on Reynolds Park Road.  
"What if that fact has something to do with her cover up and not with her death itself?", Sam brings to mind.  
"Little Laura took a swim", Dean concludes when he gets his point.  
"And I think I know where", Sam suddenly realizes, staring ahead.  
Surprised Zoë follows his gaze and ends up at the Reynolds Park Lake, which appears in the distance. Dean slows down when he sees it.  
"Take a right", Sam says, still stunned.

His elder brother does as told and drives the Chevy into Lake Front, a street where along both sides beautiful large homes are built. On the left side of the road stands a gorgeous house with blue woodwork, a big driveway and a nice yard, located right next to the lake. It's the perfect picture of a family home, the one you'll see in real-estate commercials. A dock runs out into the silent waters, goose bob at the surface as guardians of what's underneath. Sam's gaze at the large house on their left tells Dean that this is the place; he pulls over. Through the window they see Mrs. Shire doing dishes and her son is out on the dock, absently bouncing a basketball on the wooden floor.  
"Seems like we're right on time", Dean comments as he gets out of the Impala.  
He crosses the street followed by Sam and walks up to the front door. When they halt at the bottom of the porch, they notice Zoë isn't directly behind them. The eldest glances further ahead and spots her, stumbling towards them with her hand in her waist.  
"Coming, Speedy Gonzalez?", Dean comments sarcastically.  
"Shut up, I'll be there before Christmas", she returns.  
With a grin he climbs the stairs to the front door and pushes the bell. Before Mrs. Shire opens, Zoë joins them.  
"So what are we? FBI? State Police?", Zoë leafs through the several ID's she's got in her inner pocket of her leather jacket.  
"Just follow my lead", Sam says without any further explanation.  
Before she can ask about it, the door opens. A chain prevents the door from opening entirely; seems like this family took precautions after the attack. Completely useless of course, they need a lot more than a little chain to stop a ghost from entering the house. A tired and worried face of a woman in her mid thirties partly shows.  
"Can I help you?", she asks gently, but slightly careful.  
"Yes, we are…"

Zoë automatically takes the lead and is about to flash her badge, when Sam intervenes.  
"I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean and this is Zoë. We're here to help", Sam says honestly.  
A bit startled Zo looks up at Sam, but recovers quickly. This is certainly not the approach she expected or had chosen herself. He's actually going to tell her the truth? She exchanges looks with Dean, but he doesn't seem worried. Apparently he's use to this tactic and has full confidence in his brother.  
"Help me with what?", Mrs. Shire asks puzzled.  
"We know what happened to your husband, our sympathies", Sam continues compassionately. "But there are some things we need to talk to you about".  
Doubtful she looks from one to the other. They can't blame her, after the yet unexplained murder it's only normal to mistrust anyone to show up at her doorstep, especially three complete strangers.  
"I don't know who you are, but I already talked to the police", she claims after which she intends to close the door.  
With a quick movement Zoë places her hand against the door to prevent it from locking. Her piercing dark eyes look straight into those of Mrs. Shire.  
"We know who killed Robert", she states straight to the point.  
Mrs. Shire's eyes widen as she freezes on the spot, she can't believe what she just heard. On their turn now Sam glares at her, talking about the direct approach.  
"Smooth…", Dean clears his throat while pronouncing the word.  
Normally Zoë would have glared at him, but this time her piercing gaze remains on Mrs. Shire, trying to get to her and make her realize how important this is. It seems to work though, because the widow takes off the chain and steps back completely stunned, unable to say a word. They enter the house calmly. Zoë observes it, like she always does when she's some place new. It's a common house, classical decorated. Pictures of the happy family as it was two months ago fill the walls, portrays of an illusion. While they walk in the living area, Sam hastens to the back of the house.  
"I'm gonna make sure her brother's okay", he tells them before he leaves the room.

Puzzled Mrs. Shire looks at both Dean and Zoë. They can see from her face that she's worried and a bit frightened, she knows something's up. But two words in that sentence raze one big question.  
"Her brother?", she repeats dazed. "Is this about Laura?"  
"It's about both", Dean gestures at the couch as he sits down himself.  
Hesitating Mrs. Shire settles on a comfortable chair opposite of Dean. No one asked her to sit down, but something inside her tells her it might be wise. Zoë on the other hand remains standing. Although she isn't feeling well, she doesn't wanna sit down next to Dean, how childish it may be. The only man in their company leans forward and rests his arms on his knees, forking his hands together. He bites his lip before he starts off, he know this will hit hard. But before he can speak, the mother across from the table does.  
"Did you go to the police?"  
Zoë can't help but to raise her eyebrows. They are about to tell her who killed her husband and she's worried about the police? Dean and Zoë exchange a look, after which Zoë answers.  
"No, we haven't", she says. "They usually don't handle things like this that well".  
"Things like what?", she asks.  
Dean sighs and glances up at Zoë; here goes nothing.  
"Things like ghosts", he says.  
A bit flabbergasted, the woman across from the table observes them both and then starts to laugh nervously.  
"You've got to be joking", she chuckles.  
But both Zoë as Dean keep a straight face.  
"Do we look like we're joking?", Zoë returns that question.

The smile slowly disappears from her face as she stares at them. Anyone can see it, both of them are serious. Nevertheless, she refuses to believe it.  
"This is insane, I can't believe I'm still listening to this", she gets up as the anger sets in.  
"I don't think you want to be doing that", Dean gives her a penetrating look. "Sit down, Mrs. Shire".  
The widow can't quite put her finger on it, but there's something about the way they act and talk, that almost make her believe their telling the truth. Slowly she settles on the chair again and places her hand on her lap, nervously pulling her skirt down.  
"Like I said, we know what happened to your husband", Zoë gets to the point. "but we also know what happened to Laura".  
"I don't know what your talking about", she states stubborn.  
"That's funny, because Laura was pretty good on the details during our little chat", Zoë claims.  
Her eyes widen as Mrs. Shire stairs up at the young woman, who still stands next to the couch. Zoë sighs, this is taking too long. It's not like she has all the time in the world. Bored she glances at the backdoor, she wonders how Sam is doing.  
"We know what Robert did to his daughter, Mrs. Shire. Don't go denying that, we know everything", Dean makes clear before she throws in more crap.  
Not believing what she's hearing, tears well up in her eyes. She swallows apprehensively.  
"How could you possibly know this?", she asks stammering.  
"Take in consideration that ghosts are real and I believe you can answer that question yourself", Zoë bounces back.  
Speechless her gaze wonders off as her blue eyes shimmer. Then she closes them and tears role down her face, she cries silently. Now Zoë too looks down at her shoes, she always finds it hard to deal with this. She isn't the person who puts her arm around some one to comfort him or her. Dean doesn't undertake action either and so they let her be. After a while she starts to talk.

"Robert always had an unstable personality. He could be a loving guy and just like that…", she flicks her fingers. "he could change into this bad tempered, aggressive man. I hoped that having a family would change him".  
She shivers during a short pause as she wipes away her tears. Dean observes the elder woman while listening as Zoë leans against the back of the couch. The sympathy they have for the widow grows, now that they learn that Laura wasn't the only one Robert Shire use to beat up when he was in a bad mood.  
"When Tommy was born, it seemed like things did change. Tommy meant everything to him, he never laid a finger on him. But then, when Laura was born…", Mrs. Shire closes her eyes as teardrops find their way down her marked face.  
"He never wanted to kill her, he just lost it that evening. She was stubborn and he lost it…", crying she buries her face in her hands. "We had to cover it up. Tommy and I and even Robert, we would have lost everything. Our home, Tom's school, what was left of our family, everything. We just didn't want to make it worse".  
_Son of a bitch_, Zoë mouths without a noise. Dean notices her expression and shakes his head himself. He would almost give Laura credit for what she did to her father, but this has to stop now before it escalates even more.  
"Mrs. Shire. I know this is tough, but we need to know where Laura's body is", he confronts her.  
"She's buried at _Linwood Cemetery_", she cries.  
"No, she's not", Zoë immediately cuts in.  
Puzzled she looks up and glances from her to Dean. They can see from the look upon her face that this time, she really doesn't have a clue what they are talking about. As Zoë observes her response, another theory starts evolving in her head. What if Mrs. Shire never knew about the bodyswap? What if she thought that she really buried her daughter at Linwood Cemetery? Maybe all who knew about the switch were Robert Shire and Dr. Judigtsteyn.  
"Where else would she be?", Mrs. Shire says staggered.  
"Don't play tricks on us", Dean says fierce.

"No Dean, wait. Was the coffin ever open during the ceremony?", Zoë asks out of the blue.  
Both Dean and Mrs. Shire look up at her disorientated. The only man in their company gives her a questioning look; where is she going with this?  
"No, Robert insisted it was closed. Why?", she answers, even though she finds the question irrelevant.  
"Oh God…", Zoë sighs deeply and rubs her face, then she turns to the woman in front of her again. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but Laura was never buried in _Linwood Cemetery_".  
Completely overwhelmed and hardly believing what she just heard, Laura's mother stares at her with her mouth opened. This woman has to handle a lot and it's starting to show.  
"What?... But, where is she?", she cries. "Where's my Laura?"  
_Damn good question_, Dean realizes. But he also knows that if Mrs. Shire doesn't have a clue where her daughter is, they might be on a very dead end, literally.  
"We hoped you could tell us", Zoë admits.  
Out of pure desperation the elderly woman huffs and looks away. Dean can see she's about to break, but now that he understands where Zoë was going towards, he decides to fill in the blank lines for the poor mother.  
"We believe your husband and a friend of him inside the hospital switched two similar bodies, because he was afraid someone might start talking", he explains.  
"I can't believe this is happening…", she whispers, unable to face them.  
Then she turns to both Dean and Zoë as she swallows back the tears.  
"If, and I say if, what you just said about Laura's… 'ghost' is true, why didn't she tell you where her remains are then?", she questions.  
"Laura isn't quite cooperative", Dean tries to explain. "She doesn't want to be found. The hate and frustration she feels right now is driving her to get to the people who never helped her, while they could".  
"The murders, first Robert, then her principal Mr. Van Dyke, after that her teacher Mrs. Dawlson and a colleague of your husband about an hour ago. They all knew about her situation, but failed to do anything about it. Laura's taking revenge for that", Zoë fills in.

"She would never do that. She's ten, she's not capable to murdering people", her mother claims in disgrace.  
"I think she's capable of a lot after what her father did to her", Dean brings to mind.  
"As a spirit, she doesn't think or act like a person anymore. All she feels is rage, she's out of control. That's why we have to find her and stop her. Otherwise you and your son might be in great danger", Zoë tells her.  
"She'll… she'll come after us?", she asks stunned.  
"You listened, you saw, but you didn't act up", Zoë says harsh.  
For a moment Mrs. Shire is able to look Zoë in the eye, but then she can't take it anymore and bursts out into tears. The young feminine hunter glances down at her and then throws a look at Dean. This is all very sad, but it isn't helping either one of them. Time is ticking and they've got nothing. Yeah sure, a lake by the size of multiple football fields. Even then, they aren't sure if the lake behind this house are the right waters. There are a dozen lakes near by, Laura could be anywhere. Desperately Dean gives it one last try.  
"Don't you have any idea where he might have left her? Any clue at all?", he sighs.  
"I know where she is".  
Surprised Dean and Zoë turn around and face a young boy. He's about twelve years old and has dark brown hair, but the same blue eyes as his mother. Sam's standing behind him, watching over.  
"Tommy? What are you talking about, honey?", his mother asks emotional.  
He looks up at Sam, who puts a hand on his shoulder.  
"It's okay, you can tell her now", he ensures.  
Scared he turns back to his Mom and takes a moment before he starts talking. But when he does, he stuns each and everyone in the room.  
"That night, when Laura…", he swallows apprehensively and takes a breath, then continues. "I saw Dad out at the lake. He rowed the boat out and dropped a big bag in the water. When he came back, I pretended I was sleeping".

"Oh Tommy…", Mrs. Shire says as she walks up to him.  
She folds her arms around him and he hugs her back as tears start rolling down his cheeks.  
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Mom. I'm so sorry", he cries, holding her tight.  
"It's okay, hon. Don't worry, it's alright", she whispers while caressing him, but she barely holds it together herself.  
The three hunters look each other in the eye. Seems like they're gonna solve this case anyway. Zoë concentrates on Tommy and levels with him as he turns to her.  
"Tommy, do you remember how far he went out?", she asks gently.  
"Not that far, he didn't pass the goose nests", the teenager tells her.  
Zoë remembers the birds on the lake. Good, they have a mark now, something to go on. She straightens her back and glances at the boys.  
"Seems like we have work to do", she comments on the case.  
"You're going to bring her to the surface?", Mrs. Shire asks, still upset.  
"Yeah, it's the only way we can lay her at rest", Sam answers.  
"I have snorkel equipment in the boathouse. Tom and Robert use to swim in that lake all summer", she offers.  
"Thanks, that might come in handy", Zoë takes it as she checks her watch. "It's gonna be dark in about an hour".  
"Okay then", Dean claps his hands once and looks aside at his brother and Zoë.  
As much as he likes a good hunt, he's not quite fond with the fact that he's on the menu of this nasty little spirit. Seems like they'll be done with this case by tonight, which is good, because they all need to move on. With strong words he finishes.  
"Let's do this".


	13. Chapter 13

The moon is almost full and shines a spooky yet peaceful light upon the lake. Rippling water reflects the shimmer, playfully and without a sound. Silhouettes of trees mark the horizon, slightly hilly and in dark contrast with the clear dark blue sky. Silence is the only thing that remains in this calm area just out of town. Everyone is sleeping, except for a owl, which calls out in the distance. But them who observe closely, spot movement on one of the docks by the Reynolds Park Lake. Three figures are doing what they do best in the still of the night.  
"I could be hunting wolf in Texas right now", Dean complains as he drops a bag on the end of the dock, staring up at the moon.  
"Could you stop whining? If we hurry it up a bit, you can still make it in time for your heart-removing-beasty", Zoë kneels down on one knee next to the bag and starts rummaging through the stuff inside.  
She feels the wooden planks of the dock vibrate and looks up; Sam is walking towards them.  
"The Shire family locked their selves in the house, all the windows and doors are salted. There's no way Laura will be able to enter", he informs on the situation.  
"Good, enough have died over this", without further consultation she takes out a pair goggles and a snorkel and fits them.  
"Wow, what do you think you're doing?", Sam questions a little surprised.  
"That body isn't gonna come floating up to the surface by herself, is she?", she returns smartly while she takes them off again and adjusts the rubber band.  
"You're not going down there", Dean states as he grabs the goggles from her.  
"Yes, I am", she insists stern, taking them back.  
"You're hurt", Sam brings in as an argument.  
"Oh, would you stop that already? I'm fine!", Zoë cries out as she takes of her jacket.  
"Shhh!", Sam hushes annoyed.  
"Don't 'shhh' me. I have to go down there, don't you see? And so do you".  
That last comment was aimed at Dean, who points his finger at himself with a puzzled face on his face.

"Me?", he questions surprised.  
"Sam said it himself", she hints at the tallest of the two brothers. "You and I have to stick together, or we're dead meat. If Sam goes down by himself, we'll be sure he doesn't come up alive, so unless either of you knuckleheads has a damn good second option…"  
Awaiting a reaction from either one of the boys, she glares at them one by one with her hands placed in her side. Of course they both keep quiet, there simply isn't a second option.  
"That's what I thought", she huffs victoriously and glances at Dean. "Get into your Hawaii shorts".  
"Ha, wouldn't you like to see that", Dean smirks.  
She tilts her head and nods slightly, imagining that for a brief moment; she can't help it but to grin. Then she turns to Sam as the seriousness returns to the conversation.  
"Make sure that you're ready to torch whatever we bring to the surface. Laura might have a change of tactics now that it's coming down to this", she looks deep into his eyes to make sure he gets her point.  
"Fuel and fire are standing by", he shows her the jerry can and his lighter, which he just got out of his backpack.  
"Good, now lets get this over with", she tosses Dean another pair of goggles and snorkel.  
"Ah come on, do I have to?", he dangles the equipment in front of him as if he's disgusted by it.  
"If you don't use them, you'll be up at the surface more than you are down searching the bottom", she puts hers on and looks him in the eye. "We don't have much time".  
"No, you don't have much time. Charming by the way", he hints at the goggles, smirking like a child up to no good.  
"Coming? or are you afraid to get wet?", with a daring look upon her face she walks over to the edge and jumps in.  
With a sigh he puts his equipment on and glances over his shoulder at his brother for a moment, who can't help to chortle as soon as he does. Immediately his initially gentle gaze turns to a irritated glare.  
"Dude, not funny", he makes clear.  
"It's kind of funny", Sam has to admit.

"Lets see if you still have that smile on your face when you have to burn the smelly swamp kid", Dean brings to mind.  
With those words he dives into the water and surfaces next to Zoë. The water feels pleasantly warm, but it makes his movements slow and heavy. He doesn't like it, never did, he's out if his element. Zoë on the other hand, seems to feel like a fish in the water. Completely at ease she floats around.  
"Here, you'll need this", Sam tosses them two flashlights.  
Skillfully they both catches the torches and Zoë puts her snorkel on her mouth. Sam looks down on them from the dock, he seems worried.  
"Be careful, okay? Stay together…", he presses on them.  
"Yeah yeah yeah, and be home before five", Dean intervenes bored.  
"Awlnd dowln't tawlk two stwangers", Zoë fills in with difficulty because of the snorkel.  
She's unable to smirk, but Sam can see her sparkling eyes even with the lack of light. He huffs smiling and shakes his head.  
"I'm serious", he takes a rope out of the bag as well and throws it in. "Tie yourself together so that you don't lose each other, this water is turbid".  
With reluctance Dean ties the rope around waist as Zoë does the same. Then she glares up at Dean's brother on the dock again.  
"Sadisfied?", she questions.  
"I feel bonded already", Dean comments sarcastically. "Let's get this over with".  
He puts the snorkel on his mouth and gives them a last look. Then he takes a deep breath and disappears in the dark waters, followed by Zoë. Concerned Sam slowly paces up and down the dock while he keeps a sharp eye on his surroundings. Everything seems quiet. Lights are on in several houses which surround the lake, but no one notices them during these dark hours. It feels like ages before his brother and Zoë surface again, but when they do, they're further away from the dock than where they started out. Almost instantly they disappear again, continuing their search. This routine repeats several times. Sometimes they are so far off that Sam doesn't even see them, he just hears the swell of the water in the distance. Impatiently he plays with his lighter as he scans the surface. Then both come up again, but this time they don't dive under. The sound of splashes carries over the flawless water and soon he sees the two figures swimming towards the dock, dragging something behind them.

"One smelly swamp kid comin' right up", Dean comments after he removes the snorkel from his mouth.  
Sam is relieved to see that Laura's remains are still packed in the black body bag. Skillfully Zoë lifts herself out of the water and parks her well formed bum on the dock, facing Dean who's still in the water. With a sigh she removes her goggles and snorkels as the water runs down face. Even though her cheek has started turning blue and the left side of her lower lip swelled to the size of a small balloon, she still looks smokin' and Dean can't help to notice that.  
"What?", she comments when she sees his gaze.  
"Nothin'", he recovers quickly. "Let's fire it up, I thought you were in a hurry".  
"I am. Pass me the bag", she reaches out.  
Dean swims to the dock and grabs the edge while he hold up the body bag, which Zoë pulls ashore. Even through the fabric, she can smell death. She gets up as Sam helps her drag Laura's body further on the dock, as Dean hoists himself on dry land. He slowly approaches them, walking like a bow legged cat who just got home after a heavy rainstorm, while the look on his face can be compared like the one of a baby who just ate a slice of lemon.  
"You're pathetic, know that?", Zoë comments as she drops the body on the wooden floor.  
"What can I say. I adjust to my company", he returns smartly.  
Sam shakes his head and doesn't bother to comment; those two won't ever stop fighting. He unscrews the cap of the jerry can when suddenly the goose who were bobbing fast asleep on the water a minute ago, fly up, crying out a warning. The warm night turns cold, Zoë is surprised when she sees the little clouds in front of her face which she just breathed out. You don't need to be a hunter to realize that Laura is on her way, if not already here. Alert she scans the area and then turns to Sam.  
"Step to it", she whispers, as if she doesn't want anyone else to hear it.  
Just as Sam is about to pour the gasoline over the body bag, the jerry can is blown out of his hand by an unknown force. It flies through the air and lands in the water, several yards from the dock.  
"What the hell?", he comments.  
Quickly Zoë looks over at Dean, but it's something in the water behind him that catches her attention. Two piercing dark eyes stare straight into hers, just over the edge of the dock, right behind where Dean is standing. It's Laura.

"Dean WATCH OUT!", she shouts.  
But it's too late. As soon as Zoë lets out those words, a pale child hand which in human form would never had to strength to do what she's about to, grabs Dean's ankle and pulls. With a loud bang he slams on the dock face first. Unpleasantly surprised by the ambush he does his best to get a grip on the planks.  
"Son of a BITCH!", he curses.  
"DEAN!", Sam roars.  
Instinctively Sam rushes towards his brother as Zoë tightens the rope that still connects her to Dean. Deep down she realizes she can't outrun the spirit's strength, but it's not like she has another option here. As fast as she can she tries to enforce herself by wrapping the rope around an iron bollard, which is normally used to tie boats to. At the mean time Sam reaches the end of the dock and slides over the wood as dives towards his brother. Desperately he grabs both Dean's arms; he is barely able to keep a grip. The eldest looks up into his brothers eyes as he grinds his teeth, using every bit of strength he hold on.  
"Don't let go", Sam presses as he tries to pull his brother out of the water.  
"Outstanding advise, Sammy!", Dean comments frustrated.  
The incredible force that's trying to haul him into the water seems to build. Sam's grip slips from Dean's lower arm to his wrist and it only takes seconds before all that eldest of the two brothers is hanging from is Sam's fingers. Unlike others in this situation, Dean doesn't seem scared what so ever. His piercing green eyes stare up into his brother's before he lets go.  
"Burn her", he orders with lowered voice.  
It's the last thing Dean can say before he slips completely and is dragged into the depths of Reynolds Park Lake.  
"DEAN!", Sam cries out desperately.  
The rope still rolled up on the dock rolls off and shoots down after Dean. For a very short period of time Zoë stares at it and realizes that he's gonna drag her right down with him.  
"Crap", she curses.

Then the rope tightens and with one single blow the bollard is broken free from the dock. Both the pollard and Zo are pulled to the edge of the dock. Zoë has to act quick to save her own ass and draws a knife from her belt. In one quick streak she cuts herself loose and comes to a stop right before the edge. There's not much time to be relieved, because Sam is about to dive in after his brother.  
"Sam don't!", she warns.  
"Burn Laura, NOW!", he orders.  
Stammered she watches him dive in after his brother. In a split second she stares aside at the jerry can still floating on the surface. She needs to find gas, right now. As fast as she can she gets up and takes a run for land. Her footsteps echo under the wooden planks of the quay until she reaches the solid ground. She slips on the dusty road as she halts by the back the Impala. Frustrated she tries to open the trunk, but the stupid son of a bitch who is drowning at this very moment, closed it.  
"Damn it!", she curses, looking around her for something to open it with.  
Then she spots a shovel, leaning against the boathouse. Quickly she runs back, grabs the shovel, goes back for the Impala and sets the iron plate right on the small opening where the lock is positioned. With one skillful move she turns the shovel and the trunk breaks open.  
"Dead or alive, he's gonna haunt me for this", Zoë states as she searches the trunk.  
It contains an entire arsenal of weaponry, enough for a small army, but she has to dig deep until she finally finds a jerry can. As fast as her legs can carry her, she heads back for Laura's remains on the dock and pours the gasoline and salt over the body bag. As a last ingredient to the ritual she hastily picks up her leather jacket, takes out her lighter, flips it and throws it on the body bag. Within moments the entire bag catches fire, as the body inside. Out of breath she watches the flames for a moment, listening to the rustling sound. Then she slowly turns around and stares at the surface, waiting for a sign of life from either one of the boys. But all she hears is her own respiration and the thumping of her own heart. For the first time in quite a while a certain fear comes to her; is she too late?  
"Come on…", she whispers apprehensively.

Restless her eyes scan the surface, but nothing comes up. Just as she's about to dive in herself, Sam appears and luckily, he isn't alone. Dean surfaces and gasps for air while Sam supports him, making sure he doesn't disappear in the water again. Quickly Zoë crawls over the edge of the dock and grabs Dean's arm.  
"Show off", Zoë comments as she drags him further onto the quay. "You just had to hold your breath longer than I, didn't you".  
"Shut up", Dean hoists himself on the dock, falls down and coughs his lungs out.  
Sam whips back his hair as he climbs out of the water, out of breath he gets up and looks down at his brother.  
"You okay, man?", he asks his brother.  
"Sure, piece of cake", he clears his throat and rolls on his back.  
"Piece of cake? You know how hard it was to get some decent fuel to fire up that little brad? Next time, DON'T lock up your car, moron", she huffs.  
"Don't go bitching on me. Why didn't you moonwalk back and forth? One minute more or less wouldn't have mattered", he exaggerates hoarse.  
"Hey, Laura might have broken my nose, but I don't do Michael Jackson", she comments smartly, looking down at him with her hands placed in her slender waist.  
He grins with his eyes closed, but then he sits up. Sam reaches out and helps Dean on his feet. All of them feel as if they just ran the marathon, tired but satisfied they stare at the fire. Flames flicker in their eyes and shimmer an orange glow on their skin.  
"Rest in peace, Laura Shire", Zoë comments with soft voice.  
Although the little girl tried to kill her, she never felt that the ten year old was an evil spirit. All she was, was a angry and frustrated ghost, longing to get the truth out about her death, longing for rest and redemption. It's strange how this case isn't just about good and evil. It wasn't black and white, it was one grey mess. What Robert Shire did was wrong, what everyone involved didn't do was wrong, but did they deserve to die for it? Some may think that they got what they deserved, some may think differently. Zoë's certain about one thing though; Laura was just a victim of her own environment.


	14. Chapter 14

Back at the _Sunset Motel_, peace has returned after the incident earlier that day. The Impala is parked in front of the building across from _Linwood Cemetery_, the black paintjob shimmers beautifully in the pale moonlight. It's almost midnight when Zoë, accompanied by the two Winchester brothers walks out. Zoë had time to change, but the boys are soaked through, yet they don't seem to care. The temperatures are warm and pleasant, neither of them feel cold. Zoë is carrying a backpack over her shoulder and holds her helmet in the other hand.  
"That's that then", Dean sighs satisfied as he halts by his Chevrolet.  
"One down, a whole but load to go", Zoë states rationally.  
"True enough", Sam realizes as he walks over to the passenger side.  
"You made your deadline though", Dean brings to mind.  
He leans his arms on the hardtop and looks over at her, while she strolls to her Harley Davidson. As she goes, she glances at her watch.  
"Not yet, but at least I'll make it in time for the big show", she smiles and observes the boys.  
"What about you two? Texas?", Zoë checks.  
"Yep, Waco", Sam specifies.  
Zoë nods approving, they can see from her reaction that she knows the place.  
"When you're in town, stop by at _Honeybee Ham & Deli_. I tell ya, their ham and turkey is awesome", Zoë advises.  
"Will do", Dean smiles happy as he pictures the plate full of juicy meat.  
"What about you?", Sam wants to know.  
Zoë climbs in the saddle of her Road King, which faces the boys. She doesn't put her helmet on just yet though. Her good mood disappears when she's confronted with what's coming.

"I'm going up north", she answers vague.  
A silence follows and Dean glances at Sam over the top of his car. Both the boys sense that something's up, but Zoë made it clear to Sam that she can't talk about it.  
"If you need a hand…", Sam starts carefully.  
"No, I don't. Really guys, you need to stay out of this one. It's not your fight", Zoë says stern.  
"That bad, huh?", Dean comments.  
"It's just something I need to take care off. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the help you gave me here, but this is personal business", she answers, looking from one to the other.  
"Whatever you do, don't follow me", she presses them.  
"We have our own issues", Sam assures.  
Zoë huffs sarcastically. "Oh yeah? Like what?"  
Both the boys stay silent and Zoë realizes where Sam was going for.  
"Your Dad?", she checks serious.  
"We want to find him. He's probably after that demon by himself", Sam states determined.  
For a moment Dean observes his brother when he hears the will in his voice. He knows he can fight him, hell he can start an argument with him right now, but what would it matter? Sam isn't easily convinced, not when it comes to this. He wants to find Dad and kill that demon so desperately, it's becoming an obsession. When he looks back at Zoë, he's a bit caught of guard by her eyes, who stare directly at him. She has been reading him all the time.  
"Seems like you do have your own issues", she comments as she put her helmet on.  
"Sure you can ride?", Dean checks with her.

Zoë glances at him through her visor; he has a point. She doesn't feel great at all. Her head is still spinning from the blow, she probably suffered a bit of a concussion. Her body aches and a 520 mile bike ride isn't going to improve that. She would love to settle down in a motel and get some sleep, which she normally does after an exhausting hunt. This time things are different, there's just too little time.  
"I don't have much choice, Winchester", she sighs. "I'd better get going".  
"Be careful", Sam warns friendly.  
Zoë only responds with a smile and looks down. It's funny, all this time she has been fighting the Winchester boys, but now that she's about to leave, she feels like lingering.  
"I hope you'll find your dad", she says out of the blue.  
A bit surprised the brothers look up at her, where the hell did that came from?  
"He's your family. I know he can be a pain, but he's _family_. Treasure that as long as you can", she says wise.  
Sam nods agreeing, she's right. The last time he saw his father, he left with a huge fight. Ever since he is afraid he might never see him again, that he'll never get the chance to say he's sorry. That's what he is, sorry. He knows he's not the only one to blame in this, but he bailed on both his brother and his father and chose his own path. That's how it feels anyway. Zoë knows loss, she lost her father in an unforgivable and certainly unforgettable way. And it's that fact that makes both Dean and Sam realize that these wise words are coming straight from the heart. She looks at them with a smile on her face, a satisfied one. It's odd, she looks at them as if she doesn't expect to see them ever again. Then Zoë kicks her ignition, but before she takes of, Dean calls out for her.  
"See you around", he says.  
As he watches her response, Zoë huffs. _Not likely_, she realizes, not pronouncing the words out loud. She gives them a last nod and gasses it up. With a loud roar her Harley Davidson hits the highway. Both brothers watch her red tale light getting smaller, then she disappears out of sight. Silently they stare up the road, both thinking about what she just said. Sam is the first one to reply on it.  
"Did she just… say goodbye?", he checks, making sure he didn't just interpreted her words wrong.  
Dean doesn't respond and forks his fingers together as he stares in the distance.  
"As in… for good?", Sam adds.

He glares at his older brother, who ponders. Then he shakes his head and opens his car door. Sam takes his example and settles in the passenger seat. Dean seems to have made up his mind and turns the ignition. _Go Your Own Way_ by Fleetwood Mac sounds trough the cabin as soon as the radio switches on automatically, now that the engine is running.  
"Are we going after her?", Sam wants to know.  
"No", Dean responds, annoyed by the fact that for a split second, he was thinking it himself. "She's a big girl, Sam. She can take care of herself".  
"That's what you said last time", the youngest of the two bounces back.  
"That was bad luck, everyone makes mistakes. It's not our job to protect fellow hunters, it's our job to protect innocents", Dean brings to mind.  
"If Zoë's in trouble, she's innocent", Sam comments.  
"Believe me, Sam. Zoë is everything_ but_ innocent", the eldest comments.  
"I dunno man. I think she's after something big, or something big is after her", Sam stares through the windshield in the direction where Zoë disappeared just moments ago.  
"So she's on a big fish", Dean states nonchalant. "If she needs our help, she'll call".  
"No, she won't", Sam knows better than that.  
Dean looks aside and observes his brother for a moment.  
"I thought you were so determined to find Dad?", he questions.  
"I am", Same confirms.  
"Then why the hell do you care so much for some girl, Sam? We have better things to do. There's a werewolf on the loose last time I checked and I don't see why we should be bothering ourselves tracking down a hunter who's fine by her own and is not keen on our company", he comments annoyed, after which he quotes her. '_Whatever you do, do not follow me_'. Her words, dude".  
Sam gives in with a sigh, maybe he's right. Zoë made it pretty clear that she doesn't want them on her tail, maybe they should just let her be. But deep inside he feels differently. Something tells him that something bad is going to happen to her. Pondering he stares ahead.

"Seriously, if you want me to believe that you don't have a major crush on her, you'll have to do better than this", Dean's green eyes sparkle as he carefully looks aside.  
His younger brother glares at him, but decides not to respond. Dean is making fun about it, but he's not sure himself if, or what he feels for Zoë. She's such an extraordinary girl, with this strange isolated personality. She's weird in so many aspects. Most of the time she's a total bitch, a smart ass who can't shut up and always knows better. But there's something about her and he can't put his finger on it. There's a connection between them, if they like it or not.  
"So? Waco then?", Sam decides to change the subject.  
"Waco it is", Dean states satisfied.  
He turns the Impala and is about to hit the gas, as he hears a strange clicking sound from his trunk as he drives over a speed bump while exiting the parking lot of the _Sunset Motel_. He noticed it earlier, but didn't bother to take a look.  
"What _is_ that?", he asks out loud, looking over his shoulder.  
"Sounds like your trunk isn't closed properly", Sam says.  
Dean stops the car in the middle of the exit and gets out. Sam stares in his back mirror, but can't spot his brother. When he roles down the window and turns his head, he sees Dean, almost boiling of rage.  
"What?", Sam wants to know as he gets out.  
He joins his brother and beholds the back of the Impala. The frame of the trunk is badly damaged and scratched; apparently someone used a large object in order to get in. Someone like Zoë. For a moment they just stare at the car without saying a word. The youngest of the two doesn't flinch, Dean on the other hand grinds his teeth and clenches his fists as if a volcano is about to erupt. Sam realizes that Zoë is one lucky girl that he didn't notice it before, when she was still around.  
"Insulting her is one thing, but _this_…", Dean spits furious. "I'm gonna kill her, I am _SO_ gonna kill her".  
"Calm down", Sam tries to ease.  
"Calm down? _SHE SCREWED UP MY CAR!_", he shouts pissed as he turns red.

He slams the trunk and pushes it down hard, but it doesn't lock as it should. Then he walks back to the front and gets behind the wheel again. Quickly Sam sits down next to him, not wanting to piss him off even more. Dean is on the edge right now, one wrong move, comment or facial expression and he'll explode. Dean squeezes the blood out of his hands on the wheel, as he hits the gas and leaves the exit with spinning tires. Sam gulps and uncomfortably leans back. The day that Dean got this car from Dad, he learned a very important lesson; If you mess with the Impala, you mess with Dean.  
"For the record", he starts off, holding back. "This wasn't the last time we saw Sullivan".  
"It wasn't?", Sam carefully questions.  
"Oh, we'll see her again", he grinds. "And I'm gonna kick her ass big time when that time comes".  
_Poor Zoë_, Sam can't help to think. A part of him hopes they'll indeed never run in to her again. What are the odds? America is a big country, he just has to hope for the best. Sam glances outside into the dark night and grins. She's probably laughing her ass off on her bike right at this very moment, she knows he would find out sooner or later. That Zoë Sullivan, she left an impression alright. And something tells him that their paths will collide again, maybe even sooner than expected.


End file.
